of Wind and Steel
by LCDRformat
Summary: Yasuo's search for truth leads him to the Institute of War, And for the first time in a long time, the renegade swordsman meets new friends.
1. Chapter 1-2

Prologue

* * *

"Are you … Jinx?"

Yasuo stood in a courtyard of the Institute of War, a massive, ancient building which dominated a small city. On this particular day, an autumn storm was brewing on the horizon, pushed south by Freljord winds. The frosty cool morning breeze fluttered across the compound, rustling leaves and tugging at his clothes. Yasuo, himself an expert on wind, mused that it might bring snow.

Confused and receiving no answer, the guard addressing Yasuo continued.

"We just have several new Champions coming in today, and I don't know which one is which. I mean, the summoners who do the judgement didn't provide descriptions or anything."

Yasuo refocused, temporarily forgetting the potential snow. Adjusting his azure poncho tightly around his shoulders, He replied tersely.

"My name is Yasuo." And after a second of thought, he added: "Though Jinx might suit me all too well."

The guard nodded, checking his notes.

"Right…" He leafed through papers, desperately trying to find some lost piece of information.

"Sorry.. the regular check-in clerk is sick today… sorry."

Yasuo shifted, resting his left hand on the hilt of his sword. The two men stood near a portcullis at the outer walls of the Institute. Though a whole city was built and based around the Institute of War, The Massive, castle-like structure in the middle dominated the skyline.

Yasuo studied the small, frustrated man, smirking to himself.

"Okay, a couple of things I need to clear up. Have you committed any crimes?"

"Yes." Yasuo replied.

The guard grimaced, writing on a slip of paper.

"Well, we get all kinds here. Are your past crimes your reason for joining the League? "

Yasuo had to think for a second.

"No. I'm searching for someone."

""Who?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be searching."

"Fair enough, friend. That was just a personal question."

Yasuo watched behind the man as a group of people walked together, laughing and joking. Having failed to watch any of the matches magically broadcast around the world, he did not recognize them, but wondered if they might be champions.

"Okay, What's your political affiliation?" The guard continued.

"Not applicable."

The guard hesitated, pen in hand.

"Sir, we have people who listed their affiliation as being loyal to a desert or a tree or a rock. Surely you have something you're attached to."

"... Put me down for wind."

"Oh, very well. Last question, what is your tagline?"

Yasuo raised a single eyebrow.

"I'm sorry?"

"You know, a tagline. everyone here has a one or two word line that describes them, it sums them up so the people have something to identify new or unfamiliar champions by. 'Fizz, the Tidal Trickster' or 'Katarina, the Sinister Blade'. You get to pick your own." The guard smiled, as if his last sentence was a birthday gift. Yasuo thought for a moment before he answered.

"Yasuo, the Unforgiven."

I

Dirge for the Living

The opulence of the room frequently stunned newcomers into silence, spanning eighty feet with a vaulted ceiling of nearly thirty feet. The arch of the ceiling was filled with intricate, awe-inspiring designs, images of battles and victories of Valoran's past. Inside, tables were laden with food and decorations, each more expensive than the last. Crowds of people milled around the tables, mingling talking, gorging on gourmet delicacies. The wealth of the attendees was obvious, as they all wore only the finest of apparels and jewels, each more decadent and shining than the last.

All of which disgusted Yasuo.

The disparity between the dress of those around him and his own garb was stark, as he wore only his shaw, a set of loose fitting pants tied around his waist, a pair of leather sandals, and his sword in its sheath.

His eyes were downcast as he walked across the carpet, his sandals sinking into the velvet an inch with each step. Paying no heed to his direction, he made it to the other side of the room before turning to view it as a whole. He leaned against one of the several columns supporting the vaulted ceiling, crossed his arms, and frowned. As he surveyed the crowd, Yasuo was once again overcome with disgust at the opulence of the room before him. In his mind, images of the slums of Zaun flicked past, reminding him of his brief times there. He could not help but to contemplate how much even the money spent on this party could improve the poverty in Zaun. As he watched the crowd, a single person broke off and made her way towards him. She was clad much like the others, extremely formal. She was much less opulent, wearing less jewelry and sporting a very revealing skirt and a low-cut blouse. She had striking blonde hair and was quite beautiful. Yasuo briefly considered removing himself from the party, his only reason for attending being that for new champions, it was mandatory. The young woman reached him before he could act on his plot.

"Hi! I'm Janna." She offered a hand "Pleased to meet you."

He accepted her hand, replying with only his name.

"Yasuo."

The young woman was not deterred by his brief reply, instead attempting conversation.

"Hi Yasuo, where are you from?" She smiled broadly.

"East." Her smiled faltered a bit, as Yasuo continued to gaze out across the room. She followed his eyes, and finding nothing, attempted to continue the conversation.

"So are you from Noxus, or Ionia..?"

"It doesn't matter now." Yasuo cut her off, his gaze still fixed upon the crowd.

"Okay, Yasuo from the East, what are you looking for?" Janna replied, glancing out over the crowd.

"Just thinking." He said, his eyes still fixed on the party.

"If you do your thinking while someone tries to talk to you, you may run the risk of seeming rude." Janna shifted her position so she was directly between Yasuo and the party, standing in front of him. His eyes broke focus, and met hers. She continued, "There. So what were you contemplating, Yasuo?"

"Don't you think that they could be spending money better than this?"

Janna's eyes grew dark, narrowing in frustration. A cloud seemed to loom around her, chilling the air. She eyed the opulence of the room, massive bowls of punch, extravagant hors d'oeuvres, and expensive alcohol flowing freely.

"Oh, I understand that better than you do, Yasuo from the East. Don't assume this was my idea, or that I didn't fight against it."

Janna's eyes flicked about the room, taking in the tables laden with delicacies and the many, many bottles of wine making their rounds.

"It's all about money, really. The funds for running the League come directly from the governments of the various city-states represented here. But those in charge of the League have found other ways to make money… ways that benefit greatly from having a party for the more influential citizens to meet the champions. Merchandising and sponsorships, you see."

Yasuo laughed.

"So we're on display."

"Precisely."

Across the room, a small, pale, incredibly thin woman was becoming quite disruptive, and, much to the surprise and horror of the guests, was halfway submerged in a massive bowl of punch, mock bathing herself with it. Yasuo watched as guards moved in and extracted her from the punchbowl, her piercing laughter echoing the whole time.

He said nothing as they dragged her from the room, merely raising a single eyebrow.

Janna continued, undeterred by the interruption.

"Almost none of the champions come to these events anymore. Usually it's just me. Like you pointed out, they're extravagant and boring. "

"You're a champion, then? Why do you come?" Asked Yasuo. He no longer seemed interested in Janna, instead moving his focus to a bottle of rum being offered by a waiter to guests nearby.

"Like I said. Merchandising. Sponsorships. But also to invite new champions to the real party."

Yasuo largely ignored her, beckoning the waiter over.

"Sure. Sounds neat."

"You're coming off as a little rude again, Yasuo from the East."

The waiter reached him, and Yasuo rejected the glass offered, instead taking the whole bottle.

"I'm not really interested in your after party."

"It's not the after party. It's the real party. My friends and I throw one every time new champions are admitted to the League. We really can't stand that the only party to welcome the new guys is _this,_ " she continued, sweeping a hand across the room. Yasuo upended the bottle, drinking deeply from it. Janna remained silent as he took a healthy gulp, draining nearly a quarter of the bottle. When finished with his drink, Yasuo placed the bottle back into the somewhat perturbed hands of the waiter. When he was finished, Janna continued.

"It would mean a lot to my friends."

"I have no reason to go."

"You have no reason not to go."

Yasuo sighed, reaching for the bottle of rum. Instead he grasped air, finding the waiter to have moved on.

Janna persisted, leaning forward.

"Pleeeeease? You'll make a very pretty group of girls very happy."

Yasuo smirked the slightest amount, amused. It had been a long time since anyone had tried this hard to talk to him, instead of trying to kill him as soon as he said his name.

"Why do you want me there so badly?"

Janna straightened.

"Well, no one ever comes. It's just disappointing to put together a party every few months if no one ever comes."

"What about the other new champions?"

"One of them refused to say a word to me, and I believe the other was just forcibly ejected." Yasuo looked around, noticing the absence of the thin, pale woman he had seen in the punch bowl.

"Will there be drinks?" He asked.

"If that's what it takes."

Yasuo shifted, standing from the column he had leaned on and gesturing towards the door of the great hall.

"Might as well."

Yasuo followed Janna down a long, well-lit stone corridor. The castle that now housed the League of Legends had been built many years ago for war, and had simply been repurposed. Nonetheless, the ancient stone corridors utilized lighting and decorations to lighten the mood of the otherwise war-like interior. Janna moved along soundlessly, walking, and occasionally floating, swiftly through the castle. In her hands were two bottles she had attained at the party, much to Yasuo's amusement. The waiters in the party had been rather agitated by her procurement, with Janna merely promising that she was good for it. As Yasuo followed the young lady, he reflected on his decision to attend her party. He had spent the last nine years roaming Valoran, and very rarely spent any great deal of time in one place. Yasuo planned to move to the edge of the party and fade away, taking solace in his drink. Now he wondered why he had accepted this invitation.

His thoughts were interrupted by Janna's sudden stop. She had paused outside of a small wooden door, watching him closely.

"You zoned out for a minute there." Yasuo ignored her, nodding towards the door.

"Is this your room?"

"No. It's a friend's room, actually."

They both stood in the hallway, silent. Neither said anything until Yasuo remembered.

"Your hands are full. Right."

The air in the hall was tense and awkward. In the back of his mind, it occurred to Yasuo that she was much colder now that he had agreed to attend the party.

Yasuo reached for the door, opening it. The room inside was a simple apartment kitchen, with a table, sink and stove. It was largely undecorated, save for a scattering of pictures on the walls. A banner hanging above the cluttered kitchen table read, in hand drawn script, ' _Welcome New Champions'_. Seated at the table were two young women, both quite startled by his entrance. One of the women had long hair in pigtails, strikingly blue save for its yellow tips, and wore a simple blue dress. She was light complected and had broad smile which switched immediately into a confused look as he entered. The other woman was far more unique, with Lavender skin and large, amber eyes, wearing a simple tan overshirt. Her most noticeable feature was the single horn growing from the center of her head. A short silence filled the room as the three occupants looked at one another. The lavender skinned woman was the first to speak.

"Hello. Are you lost?"

Yasuo contemplated the question, attempting to formulate an answer. It was never a simple question for him to answer. From the hall, Janna cut in, saving him the trouble.

"He's with me. We're here for the party." Immediately, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The young, blue haired woman broke into a smile and stood, searching frantically for something. Janna pushed past Yasuo into the room, setting the bottles she carried on the table.

The woman who had originally spoken stood to introduce herself, offering a hand to Yasuo.

"Welcome. My name is Soraka, and this," she gestured to the blue haired woman now digging through refuse piled on the table. "Is Sona." Yasuo watched as the young woman rifled frantically about in a mound of cups, streamers, and napkins. He shook Soraka's hand slowly.

"Yasuo. Is it just the three of you?"

"Unless you brought friends."

 _Well, so much for fading into the background._ He mused.

Sona found what she was searching for, pulling a set of matching, conical party hats from the litter on the table. She strapped one in place on her head, offering the remainder of the stack to Yasuo, Soraka, and Janna, a bright smile across her face.

"No, thanks." said Yasuo. She seemed undeterred by his decline. Janna took a seat, accepting her hat and fastening it on her head. Soraka did the same, smiling. She gestured to a chair at the table, indicating she wanted Yasuo to sit. He accepted the seat wearily. Yasuo couldn't help but feel their behaviour was a little odd, each of them wearing the demeaning party hats. The room grew quiet, the silence palpable. Several seconds of tense, awkward passed before Soraka spoke again.

"So, Yasuo, what made you decide to join the League?" Soraka had threaded her fingers together, resting her chin on her hands, the very model of interest and curiosity. Janna seemed to have changed her demeanor entirely, making no attempt to hide her lack of interest in Yasuo, she studied her fingernails. To him, it seemed she had achieved her goal of getting him there, and that was all she wanted.

"I'm looking for someone." Sona was now shuffling about the kitchen, gathering plates and silverware hurriedly. Soraka did her best to ignore the distraction, continuing her conversation with Yasuo.

"Is this person a friend of yours? What's their name?"

"Not exactly, a friend, no. I don't know their name yet, either."

Soraka raised an eyebrow as Sona finished her searching, placing a plate and fork in front of every person at the table. The young woman was fairly glowing, Yasuo's attendance having obviously brightened her mood. Soraka continued.

"How will you know when you find them if you don't know their name?"

Sona pulled a platter from a cabinet, revealing a cake.

"I believe the person I'm looking for will have two characteristics. They will be a master of a swordsmanship technique that utilizes wind elementalism. That and they'll probably be Noxian." Silence briefly shrouded the room as Sona served slices of cake to all four attendees. She then offered them punch, which Yasuo rejected in favor of the rum Janna had 'acquisitioned' from the official party.

"You wouldn't happen to know anyone who fits that description, would you?" He continued. Janna and Sona both looked to Soraka, awaiting her response. For a moment, she focused on her cake, toying with it.

"You don't intend to offer this person friendship." It was not phrased like a question, instead her inflection led Yasuo to believe she had made the assertion with some certainty.

"No. I don't."

"Violence is not permitted between Champions of the League, Yasuo. Not outside of the Fields of Justice."

"Let me worry about that. Do you know this person?"

The tension in the room was now palpable, Yasuo tensed and leaned forward in his chair, his eyes meeting Soraka's unflinchingly.

"I need to know." The other women in the room had up to this point chosen not to take part in the conversation, but as the situation grew more tense, Sona pulled a sheet of paper from the heap of rubbish on the table, snagging a nearby pen to write on it. Soraka waited to reply, looking for Sona to finish. She did, placing the paper in the middle of the table for all to read.

" _Let's not fight. We're all friends here."_

Soraka exhaled audibly, setting down her fork and glancing at Yasuo.

"I'm sorry if I seem upset, Yasuo, I really cannot condone unsanctioned violence. If you have good reason to know this person's identity, speak with me later. Perhaps I will agree your cause is just."

Yasuo frowned slightly at the idea of a woman he had just met judging his cause. He briefly considered pressing the topic, but decided against it. He had no reason to antagonize them.

"Of course." He offered no apology, and made no attempt to further the conversation, returning his attention to his cake and rum. Mostly his rum. He wondered if Sona was a mute, but chose not to beg the question. A few short moments passed in silence, with everyone pretending to be wholly absorbed in their share of the cake. Sona seemed unsatisfied with this, retrieving her scrap of paper and adding another message.

" _Thank you for coming to our party, Yasuo. It means a lot to us."_

"I wondered about that. Why throw this party if you're not certain anyone will come?"

She once again began writing on the paper instead of speaking, her handwriting flowing and organic, almost calligraphic.

" _We have no contact with the new champions before they join, so we can't invite them ahead of time. It would be a shame if somebody wanted to come and we hadn't thrown them a party. That's why we get Janna to invite people from the real party."_

She thought a minute before adding:

" _It can be quite fun to throw a party every few months, anyway."_

Though her points made no sense to him, he nodded, returning to his meal. Yasuo reflected that it didn't seem like they were having fun before he arrived.

He studied the, room, noting the streamers, party hats and handwritten banner. It reminded Yasuo of an Ionian child's birthday party. The decor didn't seem to embarrass any of the occupants, so Yasuo assumed it was a traditional party for non-Ionians. Sona continued to write.

" _So, what are you most looking forward to here at the League?"_

Though Yasuo hadn't thought about it much, his sole reason for joining was to exact justice, but that had occurred to him as a touchy subject. He opted to pursue a less confrontational answer.

"I suppose I don't really know what to look forward too. Is the pay alright?"

Soraka laughed, shaking her head at Yasuo.

"Vengeance takes a man to crazy things Yasuo, but I've never heard of anyone joining the League without a full understanding of how it works."

"I know what we do." Yasuo noted Soraka had assumed he was seeking vengeance. "We fight to settle disputes. We take the place of war by killing each other."

Soraka smiled before continuing, sipping her punch between sentences.

"Yes, that is the majority of what we do. But quite a lot of responsibilities come with that, Yasuo. We're so much more to so many people. Though it sounds arrogant to say it, Champions of the League are frequently celebrities, giving us quite a lot of influence, along with our wealth."

Yasuo smiled, his first of the evening.

"So the pay _is_ good."

"Yes, the pay is good. and legions of adoring fans can be nice too. Ask Janna about that."

Yasuo didn't bother, and Janna didn't look like she wanted to talk about it either.

"Soraka! Stop it." Janna blushed, smiling. Soraka continued, grinning like a proud mother.

"I'd say there's hardly a tabloid in the world that wouldn't kill for some juicy tidbit of Janna's personal life, not to mention an army of loyal fanboys who would kill to meet her."

Yasuo finished his cake, downing a swig of rum before corking the bottle. In the back of his mind, he decided not to become inebriated, though the decision did bear with it a certain melancholy that sobriety always bore for Yasuo.

"Hmph. Sounds unhealthy." He remarked.

Janna, still blushing, stared intensely at the floor as she replied.

"They mean well…"

"Of course you're right Yasuo, sometimes her fans do cross the line of good taste…" Soraka's thought trailed off, as if alluding to a particular event "... but Janna's a smart girl, she takes care of herself." As Soraka continued, Yasuo could not help but draw parallels between Soraka's bragging and that of a proud mother's. He noted that Janna's response was not unlike that of an embarrassed child. The conversation paused for a moment as Sona wrote a message out on her slip of paper.

" _Do you like any music, Yasuo?"_

Yasuo smirked, recognizing the attempt to distract from Janna's discomfort. He reached into his cowl, pulling his recorder from it's confines within his pouch.

"Some." He blew a set of notes, a simple descending scale. Sona began to write again.

" _Go ahead."_

He shrugged, playing a simple Ionian nursery rhyme. The others listened respectfully, and Sona clapped at the end. Yasuo found this quite interesting, as it was the only sound he had heard the woman make.

"Thanks." He said. "It's not much, but I've had a long time to practice it." Sona continued writing.

" _May I?"_

She held out her hand, smiling. He offered her the recorder, and she accepted. Her fingers found the holes, and she blew several notes experimentally. She then proceeded to play the same descending scale Yasuo had, then another scale in a different key. She did this several times before playing a song, a haunting melody that lead into an inspiring crescendo. All of which was something of an amazement on a simple recorder. Yasuo was impressed.

"Did you set that up just to show off?"

Sona smiled, nodding as a response to his praise. "How long have you been playing the recorder?"

She wrote her answer.

" _Almost three minutes now."_

He chuckled, "Cocky. What instruments do you play, then?" She raised a single finger, the universal gesture for "Hold on a minute" as she stood and exited the room, recorder still in her hands.

In her absence, Soraka continued the conversation.

"She's a very confident girl. It startles people who meet her sometimes. People tend to assume she's shy, simply because she's a mute."

Yasuo wasn't interested in the conversation, but he continued in an attempt to avoid awkward silence.

"How did you meet her?"

"Oh, we met when she joined the League. Janna and I frequently fill the role of support in the matches, and so does she. We just got along, really."

Their conversation was interrupted as Sona returned without her party hat, carrying a large stringed instrument, so large that it seemed impossible for her to carry. The instrument simply floated along effortlessly next to her, guided by some unseen magic. She pulled her chair out from the table, sitting down to continue writing.

" _This is called an Etwahl, an ancient Ionian stringed instrument."_

Yasuo nodded after reading the note, gesturing to her Etwahl.

"By all means, play."

Sona, smiled, nodding. Her excitement was palpable, and Yasuo sensed she didn't often get the chance to show off.

Her fingers flowed across the Etwahl, and she began to play. At first she played a short, happy movement, blending in several other tones as she continued. after a short period of play, she closed her eyes and moved into another song, one Yasuo was unfamiliar with. As the song began to progress, it grew in power as it did in tempo. Her chord strokes seemed impossible for one instrument, their number falling over one another to create a veritable rainfall of sound. The tune itself was intensely emotional. It started strong, with powerful chords, like a hero's melody, building strength and inspiring confidence. Sona squinched her eyes, focusing intently. Yasuo felt a sense of familiarity in the song's beginning, as if it was about the beginning of his life, when he had felt invincible, powerful. When he was young and naive. The song played with his emotions, pulling him back to the days of his childhood. the days when he was happy. Dramatically, the song shifted, dropping into a melancholy, mournful tone of regret, a minor key striking sadness, as if the hero had experienced great loss and regret all at once. The pain at this point of the song was palpable in the room, her music bringing the other occupants to tears. From the crescendo, the song slowed in tempo, as a sad slow mourning dirge that seem to drag on, as if years were passing with no happiness in them.

From the beginning of the song, the melody had brought forth emotions that reminded Yasuo of his past, putting them all in order and ending with his years as a wanderer. To Yasuo, it was as if Sona had composed a song that described his life, and it touched him deeply. It was intensely nostalgic, a reliving of his victories and failures. For a time, he was simply stunned. He noticed the song had impressed similar emotions on Janna and Soraka, their countenances showing that they had felt the sadness of Yasuo's life.

"That was… Beautiful. Thank… thank you. Your magic is unique." Sona made no attempt at response, her eyes still closed as if meditating. Instead Soraka filled the gulf, her cheeks wet with tears.

"She has this affect on people, Yasuo. If you've never heard her before, it can be… intense."

His mind was reeling, as though his emotions would overwhelm him. He slowly began to regain control. The emotions in his mind, though his own, were not brought on by his own thoughts. They were emotions he had lived through once already, from the beginning of his life forward, as if she had read his mind to compose the song. It felt as if he had been invaded. He struggled, trying to regain control of his own feelings. Happiness, sadness, rage, regret, all his emotions, recalled from his past.

"It wasn't just intense."

His eyes met Sona's and he glared at her intensely.

"Did you invade my mind? Your song… it was my life story. It was too personal. You have no right."

Silence briefly filled the room.

Sona nodded once, and silence filled the room again.

After a short time, Sona began reaching for her notepad, and Yasuo turned to leave. Soraka called after him.

"Yasuo, please, she didn't…"

Her words fell on deaf ears, as Yasuo was already out the door.

Outside, it had begun to rain. He pulled his cowl tight about his shoulders, leaning his head down into the moisture. His thoughts were dark as he walked into an open courtyard, his mind confused. He had no concept of where he was going, but that was not a strange feeling for Yasuo. He was upset for the first time in a while. Being a very private person, He had always felt very uncomfortable sharing his story. It hurt him to think about his life, and being forced to render his memories into spoken words was always a painful process for him. Sona had done that for him, creating a hymn of his life, the story of his failures in the form of emotions brought on by a song. And she had done it all without his foreknowledge.

He continued walking, eyes on the ground and thoughts surrounding him.

As he continued into the center of the courtyard, something caught his attention. Or rather, a lack of something. The sound from the rain had died, and the light from the courtyard seemed drawn from the area. A fog localized around him seemed to affect everything, fading it to a point of nonexistence. Blackness covered him, as if the shadows had become a blanket. He immediately sensed something was wrong, and his hand flew to his sword,drawing it fully from its sheath. In the dim light, the edge of his sword was all that was visible, his hands appearing black. The wind warned him, and he brought up his sword. He had timed it perfectly, his fresh drawn sword blocking a hit from an unseen foe. As she struck, she faded into view, her dark, piercing green eyes meeting his. He pushed her away, his sword flashing in the veiled light as he swung a counter strike, hitting only air. His attacker wore a dark green gi, rendering her nearly invisible in the fog. Her dual kamas sliced the mist so quickly his eye could barely follow.

"Akali. I thought I might run into you here." She said nothing, adjusting her position low to the ground and once again disappearing into the mist.

"How's Kennen? Still adorable?"

He turned short, concise circles, blade at the ready. His lack of vision had him on full alert, his senses primed. The wind told him where she was, his sword meeting Akali's next attack before he saw her. This time she did not relent, slicing one blade high, which he blocked. Her other weapon went low, aiming to injure his legs. He stepped back, dodging the blow and then pushing off, swinging his torso low and attempting to ram her with his shoulder. Again he hit air, adjusting to block the attack he knew was coming. And it did, a similar one-two attack, this time low then high. Her low kama bit into the leather of his grieves, going deep enough to draw blood, causing his knee to buckle. She did not remove the blade, leaving it lodged in his lower leg. The high attack he blocked with his sword. The force of this one knocking him off his feet. He hit the ground with tremendous force, knocking the breath from him. Akali's kama was still firmly caught in his leg, temporarily stemming the blood flow he knew the wound would bring. The mist around him continued to impair his vision. Now firmly planted on the ground, he found himself unable to use the wind to his advantage, unaware of the direction of Akali's next attack. When it came, he saw it late, and attempted to block. Her small, extremely fast blade ringing off the grip of his sword, knocking it from his fingers and cutting them deeply. The pain forced his blade from his hand. Time seemed to slow for him as she recovered from her attack, bringing her blade around for another strike. He was defenseless now, his sword lying several feet from him.

Yasuo closed his eyes.

He saw the elder he swore to protect, beheaded and lifeless beneath a pale dawn sky.

He saw his parent's pained faces at his trial.

He saw his brother, lying in the rain, slowly bleeding to death.

And he saw his failure, now more than ever.

Suddenly, he was aware of something else. Something covering him. A small figure, her body between himself and Akali. The very next moment, a kama slammed into the dirt next to his head. He opened his eyes, and Akali's own eyes filled his vision.

"Hey, pretty girl. Weren't you about to kill me?" Her face was covered, but he could almost feel her frow.. he looked down to find two women on top of him, His would-be killer, Akali, on top. The force of her blow coupled with her redirection in aim had caused her to fall. Below her thin, wiry frame, Sona's much smaller, much less muscular form lay. When he made eye contact with Sona, she smiled, her eyes as innocent as possible. Akali rolled off, standing and straightening her gi.

Sona rolled off of him as well, staring resolutely at Akali.

For a time, there was silence. Then Akali spoke.

"Yasuo, you have been judged by the Eye of Twilight, and found an imbalance. You will be destroyed. However…" She gestured to Sona. "The actions of the Maven of the Strings, jumping between you and your executioner, does count for something. Today I will spare you." Akali shifted forward, stepping on Yasuo's leg. She wrenched her blade from his flesh, an audible crack accompanying the action.

"Looks like I hit bone."

Yasuo screamed wordlessly, his mouth agape, the pain unbelievable. Akali turned to walk away.

"Balance will not favor you twice, betrayer."

(Intermission)

* * *

The Short but Happy Life of Roger's Crush on Leona

He watched from afar as she walked in and stepped up to the bar, immediately captured by her. He loved her long red hair and bright amber eyes. He loved the way her turtleneck sweater perfectly accented the curve of her body, and (Though he would not admit it himself) the fact that she was a champion of the League.

His first mistake was to tell his friends.

"Guys. Guys. Look over there. That woman…that's Leona!"

Roger nudged his friend Marco, pointing towards the bar. Marco raised his head from the table, gazing groggily in the indicated direction.

"So it is." Marco pawed lazily around the table, his searching hands grasping a bottle of whiskey, now almost empty.

"Shit." He muttered. "We're dry." He sucked down the last mouthful of liquid, lowering his head back to the table with a thump.

"Benny." He moaned with his mouth pressed into the table, "Go get us some fuckin'... some stuff." He pushed the bottle blindly towards the third occupant of the table, missing his mark as the bottle crashed to the floor. Roger took no heed of the state of his friends, instead absorbed with the woman at the bar.

"She's so beautiful… I'm going to go buy her a drink." Marco laughed, lifting his head from the table.

"Ey,Benny, you hear that? Roger's in love with a Champion!" Benny had passed out some time ago, but neither of the other men noticed. Marco frowned deeply at his friend. Roger continued.

"I have to try man. Look at her. She's… gorgeous." Marco laughed again, oblivious to his friend's sincerity.

"No, fine, go ahead, go talk to her. Get rejected. Like I care. Just bring back some booze."

"I'm going to buy her a drink."

"Of course you are, that's what you're supposed to do. But then after you're rejected, you bring the drink to me. That's also what you're supposed to do." Roger stood from their table in the corner, hope and passion filling his eyes.

"I'm going to do it!"

"You said that already mate, just go. And Bring. Me. A. Drink." Roger strode off to the bar, confidence in every step.

Leona perused around the town, looking for a bar suitably off the beaten path. Champions of the League weren't uncommon in Kersh, the town surrounding the Institute of War. As such, the small, backwoods town had quickly become a tourist town, with bars and souvenir shops popping up everywhere, guided tours of the town promising visitors at least a sight of a League champion. For Leona and the other champions, this sort of notoriety and focus made it quite difficult to find a decent drink in the town without being mobbed. This, coupled with Leona's own preference for isolation made the smaller, off the beaten paths a prime target for Leona on that night, a Champion who wanted a drink without being bothered. She had intentionally worn her most plain clothes, doing everything she could short of hiding her face to not be recognized. She walked down a small street near the edge of town, avoiding eye contact with passersby and simply stepping aside for large groups of people. After nearly half an hour, she found a suitable establishment, a small, indistinct bar with less than twenty occupants. She slipped inside and made her way to the bar, choosing a stool and signalling the bartender.

"Hello. I'd like a pint of ale, if you don't mind."

"One ale." the barkeep replied. "Anything else?"

"No thanks. Perhaps later." The man nodded, searching for a clean glass.

Leona couldn't help but smile. No one had recognized her yet, and today was one of her favorite times of the year.

She didn't go out often, preferring to keep to herself. She spent nearly all of her time at the League preparing for and participating in matches, so her personal times were always few and far between. Her birthday was one of the few times a year she really treated herself. The bartender brought her drink, and she sipped it happily, enjoying the atmosphere of the establishment. At the bar, several men were drinking far more than they should, their antics already drawing the notice of the bouncer. In one corner, a group of three men sat, two of them discussing something while a third slept his alcohol off. By the door, another large group of men were enjoying the evening over a plate of oysters, no doubt imported from Bilgewater. To her, it was all relaxing, a calming break from her normal life.

Until the man next to her spoke.

"Hey there pretty lady. What's your name?"

His breath stank, and he leaned in much too close. He was dressed like a vagabond, and he smelled worse. He was a massive man, and Leona was confident he weighed a good deal more than twenty stone. Leona decided to cut off this conversation before it began. When she faced him to reply, she noticed pieces of food caught in his unkempt beard.

"You're repulsive, don't speak to me."

Tact had never been her strong point.

"Hey c'mon, lemme buy you a drink, tough girl. Maybe we can go back to my place later, eh?" Leona tapped her fingernails on the bar, mentally urging the bartender to hurry up with her drink, fearing she might lose her temper and ruin the evening.

"What's the matter?" the man next to her continued. "Pussy all locked up tight? You a prude? That why you wearin' a turtleneck?" Leona silently wondered to herself how the man was still single with pickup lines like that. The bartender shortly returned with her drink, and Leona picked up her ale and stood, preparing to relocate to another part of the room. And relocate she would have, had she not at that moment run into one of the men from the corner table. She collided with him, spilling her ale down the front of his shirt.

"Oh, I'm sorry." she said, placing her empty glass on the bar. For a moment, the man was silent, simply staring at her before replying.

"No, I .. it's my fault I… let me replace it." She began to tell him not too, but the man at the bar continued his clumsy advances.

"Hey, fuck off, scrub. You want me to deck him for you, pretty girl?" the man leaned forward, placing a grimy hand on Leona's shoulder. She slapped it off, staring the drunk in the eye.

"If you ever touch me again, you will regret it." He seemed startled, backing down.

Leona returned her attention to the young man she had bumped into.

The man at the bar was growing more offensive with every word he spoke, and Leona was beginning to become flustered. She needed to get away from him, before she lost her temper and ruined the evening. She turned to the man she had collided with, desperate to put distance between herself and the drunk. She found herself suddenly thankful for his timely intervention. "May I take you up on that drink?"

"I, um, I mean yeah. Sure." Roger could hardly contain himself, gesturing towards his table in the corner of the restaurant.

"If you'd like to have a seat, I'll bring you something." She smiled before replying.

"Thank you, friend." He watched as she left, sitting at the corner table with Benny and Marco. His heart was thumping audibly in his chest, and he felt like he'd never felt before. He was succeeding!

He turned to the bartender, impatient to rejoin the object of his affection.

"Bartender! Two ales, double time." He took Leona's now unoccupied seat, legs shaking in anticipation. Soon he realized his choice of seat may have been a mistake.

"You miserable little cunt." Roger turned to the man next to him, making eye contact.

"I'm sorry?"

"You think you can just walk up here and steal my woman?"

"I don't think she liked you very much, mate." The drunk stood from his seat, showing off his impressive height and size.

"I'm gonna fuckin' demolish you, you prick." The big man shoved Roger out of his chair, a painful crash knocking the breath out of Roger. He scrambled to his feet, facing the drunk giant. the man swung and missed, lurching forward as Roger backed up. Knowing he couldn't win, Roger attempted to calm the angered man down.

"Hey buddy, I don't want to fight, I'm just trying to enjoy the evening."

"FUCK YOU!" He swung again, this time connecting.

When Roger was a child, he had run to his grandfather, crying to him that he had been in a fight.

"Did he knock your block off?"

Roger wiped his red eyes before answering.

"I don't know. How can you tell?"

His grandfather had laughed, lifting the child onto his knee.

"You'll know when you've had your block knocked off. It's not a real fight until someone's block is knocked off!"

In the present moment, Roger's head snapped back from the force of the punch, smashing into a supporting post. His front teeth shattered from the impact of the blow. His jaw now hung limply on his left side where he had been struck, and he had great difficulty maintaining consciousness as he slid down the post into the floor. He could feel blood flowing from the back of his head, and he was having difficulty breathing. It occurred to him that for the first time in his life, his block had indeed been knocked off. He looked up at the drunk, enraged bear of a man, expecting his first real fight to be his last. Leona was up in a flash, sprinting at the aggressor from the side, her hair abandoning its ponytail and flying about her face. She had never looked more beautiful to Roger, rage filling her eyes. She cocked a fist back, jumping fully into the air and extending her right arm into the side of the drunk's head. An audible crunch accompanied the attack, mangling the man's jaw and lifting him fully into the air. Time slowed for Roger as he watched the man float, gracefully almost, across the room and into the bar. The weight of his body shattered the construct, caving as the man tumbled to the ground. He didn't get back up.

"Fug be." Roger gasped. His words were not coming out clearly, as his jaw was not fully attached. Leona landed gracefully, twisting to face the rest of the room., her fists raised.

"Anyone else?"

When the story was told later in taverns across the city, where the reports were perhaps exaggerated, it was said that no one even breathed for a full ten seconds.

Leona pulled her hair behind her head, retying her ponytail. She turned to Roger, looking down on his broken and bloody face. She smiled.

"Come on, my knight in shining armor. Let's get you to the hospital."

She pulled him to his feet, throwing his left arm around her shoulders. Roger was vaguely aware of Marco on his other side, helping Leona carry her burden. He was aware of them talking as he passed out. Throughout the night, he was in and out of consciousness. He remembered vomiting, but he wasn't sure where or when. He remembered Marco's drunken yammering, and a doctor tickling his face. The best part to him, was once, just once, he remembered Leona laughing.

He woke up in Marco's house, recognizing the dingy couch he slept on. The room was cramped and dirty, the couch was uncomfortable. But the things that stuck out to him the most was the pain in his head and jaw. The light hurts his eyes, and he couldn't move his neck. Marco interrupted his thoughts.

"Heyyy buddy! How you feeling?"

Roger tried to reply, but his mouth wouldn't open. He opted to stare at the ceiling as his friend continued to talk.

"Yeah, you can't actually answer. The doctor wired your jaw shut. You'll be eating through a straw for a couple months." Marco paused as he leaned into Roger's vision, blocking his superb view of the ceiling.

"Don't worry about the bill though, Leona payed for it."

Roger scowled as Marco laughed.

"You made quite an impression on her, by the way. Specifically when you puked on her."

Roger tried to convey hatred with his expression, but he didn't feel like it did justice to his emotions.

Marco continued laughing.

"We took you to the hospital. She got you priority treatment. Apparently the fifteen seconds you spent with her while conscious meant a lot. She even kissed you."

Roger's eyes widened, his face suddenly not hurting as much.

"I mean, on the forehead, but still."

Roger resumed his scowl.

"And the best part;" Marco ducked out of view for second, returning with three slips of paper in his hand. "Tickets! for a tour of the Institute. I even got her to give me a third one when I mentioned that we left Benny passed out in the bar. Which reminds me that Benny's pissed at us. The owner threw him out on the street after the fight. He spent the night in a gutter." Roger sighed through his nose. Things could have gone a lot worse. At least they had tickets to see the Institute.

Marco disappeared again, this time followed by the sound of him sitting down in a nearby armchair. He continued his story.

"The big guy who attacked you is in traction. She broke his spine with that punch.

Damn, that was awesome." Roger smiled at the silver lining.

"Anyway, Leona left before I brought you here. She had to get back to the institute before the gates closed. I'm sure it rained on her, poor girl. She left you a note, too." Marco shuffled over, dropping the note on Roger's chest. "Don't worry, I didn't read it. All yours." Marco left the room, and his comrade, in silence. Roger shifted into a sitting position, the brace around his neck making the maneuver difficult. He opened the letter clumsily, bending at the waist in order to look down at the note on his lap.

 _Hey Roger, sorry about your face. It's too bad we didn't get to have that drink, huh?_

 _Anyway, I wanted to thank you and Marco for the good time I had. That was the most fun I've had in years, minus the puke. Tell Marco I said thanks for everything. I know I can't make up for the damage that guy did, but I want you to know that I enjoyed knocking his block off. It was the perfect birthday, really._

 _Your friend, Leona_

II

Inner Strength

* * *

The courtyard was silent, the rain had abated slightly. Yasuo lay on the ground, his leg bleeding profusely. Sona lay next to him, her once clean dress bloodied and covered with mud. He had blacked out for a moment after Akali retrieved her kama, and now his mind raced, attempting to find something to say, trying to appropriately voice his feelings.

"Ouch." For a moment, that did things justice. Next to him Sona stirred, rising to a kneeling position. Yasuo felt his right leg being lifted, his muddy, bloody appendage now resting in Sona's lap. He said nothing, his eyes closed as the rain began to fall again. She tore part of his pants leg, swaddling his shin. He opened his eyes to find her looking at him, a smile on her face, but her eyes sorrowful. The rain, slight drizzle though it was, had plastered her hair to her face and soaked her dress. She looked much smaller without her pigtails, and in Yasuo's mind, she looked quite pitiful.

"Why? Why did you do that?" Her face contorted as she remembered something, searching around in the mud briefly. When she located her target, she grasped it, eyes brightening with joy as she held his recorder out to him as fi it was the most important thing in the world.

"Oh…" He smiled, accepting the instrument from her grasp.

"Thanks." He leaned forward, bringing his uninjured leg up to his chest. He examined his injury, running a finger down his blood soaked bandages.

"I thought that was it, Sona. You… I owe you."

Sona stood, gesturing back towards the Institute, simultaneously offering her hand to Yasuo. He accepted it, coming to stand on his one good leg, keeping weight off his injury. Sona handed him his sword, and he sheathed it. Yasuo wobbled a moment before he tested bearing weight on his injured leg, a sharp pain bringing him immediately to his knees. He gasped, the pain was unbearable. In order to move inside, he would either have to crawl, or…

He felt her thin arms under his chest, lifting him to his feet. Sona put his arm around her narrow shoulders, supporting the weight of his injured side with her own strength. She was clearly straining, as Yasuo was a good deal larger than she.

"Sona, you don't need to do this."

She turned towards him, their faces inches apart in the rain. The smirk on her face was undeniable, a challenge to him to try and tell her not to. He laughed at the girl's resolve, unable to restrain himself.

"Alright. Feel free to drop me if I annoy you." They started towards the Institute as the rain picked up again, drenching them both as they made their way through the mud. It was a tedious process, Yasuo was forced to lean most of his body wait on Sona, and she stumbled frequently under the burden. Upon reaching the entrance, Sona slipped open the door and pulled him through. It was late, and the entry hall was devoid of all life. It occurred to Yasuo that he had no idea where they were going.

"Sona, are we going to the infirmary? Is there an infirmary?"

Sona shook her head, then nodded in answer to his questions.

"Are we going back to Soraka's room?"

She nodded. Though he hesitated, Yasuo decided against arguing. The look on Sona's face was now one of grim determination, her jaw set and her eyes narrowed. He knew what a burden his weight must be on her. They continued down one of the three corridors which split from the main hall, heading towards the west end of the building. He felt Sona shaking as they made their way down the hall, and knew she wouldn't make it.

"Set me down. I can crawl from here." She refused, shaking her head sternly. "Sona," he continued "There's a fine line between being stubborn and being stupid. Let go of my arm."

Again she refused, though her shaking frame now suggested that she might be forced to drop him anyway. "Sona…" As he prepared his final plea, he felt himself lifted into the air, riding on someone's shoulders. Sona released her grasp on his arm, her sigh of relief audible. Yasuo struggled to gain his balance, finding himself much nearer to the ceiling than was comfortable. Below him, the woman now carrying him spoke.

"Dear brave Sona, the dawn is far, but you're up late with an injured stranger. That seems to be going around tonight."

The woman was obviously muscular, though of no large frame. She wore a burgundy turtle neck sweater and a long yellow skirt. Her flowing red hair was kept in a ponytail, and the ease with which she held Yasuo aloft spoke of her massive strength. He felt ridiculous, like a child, riding on her shoulders through the hallway. He knew better than to question the person carrying him, so instead he introduced himself.

"My name," He grunted as she shifted her grip, carefully placing her hands to avoid his injury. "Is Yasuo."

"Yasuo, friend of Sona, my name is Leona, the Radiant Dawn. It's nice to meet you, though I must say I regret the circumstances. What did you do? That's a nasty wound." Leona paused as Sona caught her breath, her struggle having obviously worn her out.

"Take it easy, girl. You're tougher than most Champions, carrying around someone twice your weight."

They paused in silence until Sona gave a thumbs up, indicating she was ready to continue. Leona turned and set a slow pace down the hall, carrying Yasuo as though he wasn't there.

"So." She continued, "Where are we going?"

"Soraka's room;" Yasuo answered, "And thank you, Leona. You're very kind."

"I wouldn't dream of letting poor Sona carry an injured man around." She replied. "Though I feel like you owe me the story."

Yasuo paused, contemplating how to answer. He thought it best to mention as little as possible.

"I was attacked."

"Obviously. Who by?"

"Akali."

Leona laughed aloud, the tremendous sound echoing down the hallway.

"And what did you do to upset our friend Akali, Mr. Yasuo?"

"It's a long story. I'd rather not discuss it." They arrived at Soraka's door, where Leona gently lowered Yasuo to the ground, like a mother setting down her child. His pride was greatly wounded, and he found it difficult to make eye contact when he offered her his hand.

"Thank you again, Leona. I owe you."

She shook his hand, her grasp firm but gentle, a broad smile on her cheery face.

"Of course. I'll get that story from you sometime." She turned to Sona, who grasped her in a massive hug, extracting another laugh from Leona.

"Take care, strong, sweet girl."

Leona left them both standing outside of Soraka's door. Yasuo raised an arm and knocked.

"Sona. Thank you. You're very kind." She smiled at him, her eyes still sad.

Moments later, Soraka opened the door, her expression delighted at seeing Yasuo and Sona.

"Oh my goodness, I hadn't expected you to convince him to come back, Sona. Yasuo, I really appreciate you forgiving Sona, she's such a kind woman once you get to know her. Come inside, please." She turned back into her apartment, oblivious to the wounds Yasuo bore. He hesitated, quite uncomfortable with asking for help. The idea seemed silly to him now, having been carried through the corridors of the Institute of War like a child.

"Soraka, I … I need your help." She turned, confusion upon her face.

Her expression change when he gestured to his leg. She rushed to his side, lowering him into one of her kitchen chairs.

"Oh my stars, what have you done?"

Yasuo grunted, the pain from his movement consuming his thoughts. Sona followed them in, collapsing into another of the kitchen chairs. On the wall, the party banner still hung, welcoming new champions. Janna was nowhere to be found, but the kitchen table had been cleaned considerably.

"You didn't try to fight Riven, did you? Please tell me you didn't find her."

Yasuo paused as she bent to take a look at his leg.

"No. I ran into Akali. She's doing well, if you're curious." Soraka grimaced as she pulled his bandages off.

"Those blades of hers are quite terrifying. This is a nasty cut. My stars, did she hit bone in there?"

"You know, now that you mention it." Across the table, a cough broke Soraka's concentration. She looked up at Sona to find the young lady quite disheveled. Her clothes and hair were soaked, her face was pale, and her shoulders sagged considerably. Soraka stopped fussing over Yasuo's wound the instant she noticed Sona.

"Sona! you poor child. Go to the back bedroom. You look exhausted. Clothes off, in the shower. I'll prepare you a hot meal. Go! I'll take care of Yasuo." She pushed Sona out of the room into what Yasuo assumed was the bedroom, closing the door between them. She sighed deeply, leaning against the door and closing her eyes. Her words were measured and even, her voice tinged with suppressed anger.

"Did you hurt her?" Her eyes opened to slits, the venom in her gaze surprising. Yasuo was chilled by the fury with which the question was asked. He leveled his gaze, eyes meeting hers.

"No."

Soraka relaxed, the tension leaving her body.

"Oh thank the stars I don't have to kill you." Her response surprised him. Somehow Yasuo felt as though he had underestimated this matronly woman. Soraka stood in silence for a time, eyes closed, still resting against the door. Yasuo said nothing. After a moment, she jumped suddenly, eyes focusing on Yasuo.

"I'm so sorry! your leg." She rushed through the kitchen, gathering a bowl of water and several towels. "Do you have your rum, Yasuo?" He reached to the pocket within his shawl to find where he had stashed his drink, only to find broken glass and a soaked pouch. He grimaced, before remembering the second bottle. He glanced wildly about the kitchen, his eyes resting on the spare bottle. He gestured with his head, unable to move.

"Could you….?" She acquiesced, grabbing the bottle and uncorking it before handing it to Yasuo. He took a hearty swig, readying himself.

"What's your plan?"

Soraka soaked a towel in the water, and Yasuo watched as the towel began to glow.

"This is much easier on the fields." She remarked. Soraka continued, bending to look closely at the wound. "I'll clean it with the towel, set the break, and heal it, all in one go. This will be quick, so bite down on something." Yasuo took the strap of his left pauldron in his teeth, the taste of leather filling his mouth. He bit down and nodded, giving a thumbs up.

It took Soraka five seconds. She swabbed the wound twice with the towel, used her shoulder and a table leg as leverage to pull his leg out and reset the bone, then quickly cast a spell, mending flesh and bone alike in one go. The pain was immense, but over immediately after Soraka's work was finished. Yasuo exhaled, gasping. He tested the wound, poking at it, amazed.

"You're the one of the best healers I've ever seen." He remarked. "I didn't know it was broken."

"You make it hard to be modest, Yasuo. But this was relatively easy." She began cleaning the towel she had used, washing his blood down the drain.

"I've dealt with much more threatening wounds that were far beyond my scope." Soraka set about preparing a meal, dicing potatoes and beef, throwing them in a pot to stew. Once this was done, she sat down across from Yasuo, looking him directly in the eyes.

"What happened. Every detail. That's my best friend, I deserve to know. I've never seen her look that rough outside of the fields."

Yasuo owed the woman a great deal, and as such did not hesitate to give her the entire truth.

"Akali attacked me. She was going to kill me, too, until Sona jumped between us. She risked her life to save me. I made it out with just a broken leg because Akali decided Sona's sacrifice meant I might be worth something. I couldn't stand, and she carried me halfway here. Leona did the rest of the carrying." It was difficult for Yasuo to read Soraka's feelings. But then, emotions had never been his strong point.

"Did you thank Leona?"

Of the questions he had been expecting, that was not one of them. It was hard for Yasuo not to laugh, he couldn't imagine that being the foremost concern on her mind right now.

"... Yes."

Soraka laughed, her eyes brightening.

"I don't know why I thought of that," She said. "It just popped into my head." She giggled a moment longer before seeing to the stew.

She spoke aloud as she idely stirred the pot of soup.

"I'm sorry for everything that's happened, Yasuo, we really do welcome you here."

"I'm sure you do." He replied, taking another swig of rum. He seemed to have forgotten his promise to himself not to drink too much.

"Sona went after you to apologize, you know." Soraka continued, ladeling the stew into bowls.

"She truly does feel badly about invading you."

"My memories are my own." He was unapologetic in his stance, refusing to look up from his bottle of rum as Soraka spoke.

"I understand," Soraka continued, "But Sona with her music, she has a hard time containing herself. She didn't truly read your life story directly from your mind, either. She simply read your emotions. Your feelings are incredibly powerful, Yasuo, and when she plays her Etwahl, she is almost… empathic. I suspect with some advanced honing of her skills, she might even become a telepath. I assure you, she was simply showing off. She wanted to give you the best concert she could."

Yasuo studied his bowl of stew as Soraka served him. Sona had made him feel things he hadn't felt in years. Conjured memories of his mother and brother, happiness and regret. He considered her words deeply for a while before replying.

"She obviously meant no harm. She wouldn't have risked her life for me if she didn't care. I'm still owed an apology." Relief filled Soraka's face as she smiled at him.

"No one will disagree with you there, Yasuo. Thank you for being honest."

They sat in silence for some time, listening to the shower run. When the water was stopped, Sona appeared wearing a pair of slacks and an overshirt which clearly belonged to Soraka. There was an awkward silence as she entered. Sona stood still for a moment, signing with her hands. She formed intricate symbols and sweeping gestures. Yasuo watched silently as Soraka replied in kind, the two women communicating silently for nearly a minute. At the end of the unheard conversation, Soraka stood, leaving the room to Yasuo and Sona, the latter of whom collected a pen and paper before sitting down. She held her pen over the paper for a moment before writing.

 _Hi._

"Strong start." Yasuo immediately regretted saying it. Sona stared intently at the table, blushing furiously.

She shushed him with a single finger on her lips. He was surprised by this, but obeyed her request.

" _I'm sorry. What I did was invasive. Just please, understand, I didn't think"_

She paused for a moment, collecting her thoughts.

" _Everytime I play, the Etwahl reads the emotions of my listeners. I'm world renowned, because every song I play is custom made, on the spot for each individual listener. It has a much less potent effect on a crowd. I didn't know it would make you feel all of that."_

"I don't believe this is the first time anyone's been offended, Sona."

" _No one I know has felt pain like you, Yasuo. Your song was a dirge for a living man. I had no idea you were so hurt. Your pain was… uniquely intense."_

Silence filled the room for a time. Sona did not look up until Yasuo spoke again.

"I understand. You couldn't have known."

Sona's reaction was immediate, she raised her head and smiled, running around the table to hug Yasuo.

He paused for moment, unsure of reciprocation. He settled for a pat on the back. Sona then returned to the bedroom, pulling Soraka out for another hug. Soraka smiled broadly in Sona's embrace.

"I take it you two talked it out."

"If it's alright, I'd like to talk it out with you now." Soraka's expression switched to confusion, but she broke the hug with Sona. They signed back and forth for a moment before they both sat down, Sona tucking her legs underneath her as she dug into her stew. Soraka threaded her fingers, leaning on her elbows.

"Of course, Yasuo. What's wrong?" Her eyes were filled with concern.

"Who's Riven?" Soraka flinched visibly at the name. She sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

"I suppose I did say that name, didn't I?"

"You did." Yasuo gazed at her unflinchingly, no emotion on his face. Soraka continued.

"I won't lie to you Yasuo. She was a member of a Noxian elite task force during the Ionian invasion, and she uses a particular set of attacks modeled after wind elementalism."

Yasuo stood from the table, his hand on his sword. He buckled on his leg, testing it to find the wound bothered him none.

"Where is she?" Soraka reached up, placing a hand on his shoulder to guide him back to his chair.

"Yasuo, sit do-"

"Where is Riven, Soraka?" His steel grey eyes met hers, unflinching resolve mirrored within them.

Soraka met his eyes with no hesitation or fear.

"Nobody knows, Yasuo. It's not safe for her here, she only comes to the Institute on occasion. She betrayed Noxus. Not a lot of people survive doing that, and the ones that do are very careful." Yasuo stood tensely for a moment longer, ready to walk out should any information be given in contradiction to Soraka's. Eventually he sat, eyes clouding with thought.

He took another swig of his drink.

Soraka continued speaking.

"I think I ought to know for what reason you have set your will on Riven." Yasuo glanced up at her, shrugging.

"She may be the one who killed a man I was sworn to protect."

"It's not quite that simple, is it?" She asked. Yasuo hesitated to reply.

"No."

"Then tell us. Yasuo, trust us. We'll know soon enough anyway." His head shot up, and he looked at Sona, mistrust in his eyes.

"How could you possible know?"

She immediately shook her head.

Soraka put a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention from Sona.

"The League publishes every Champion's backstory, Yasuo, you must have told them. It's a requirement to join. Sona doesn't know anymore than I do."

"They publish that?" Yasuo was upset, for the first time, visibly. Soraka and Sona both looked at him sadly.

"Oh, you poor man. You didn't know." He shook his head, clearly frustrated. Soraka continued.

"They publish some of the Judgements as well, Yasuo."

His eyes softened, showing his anger dimming.

"They wouldn't dare publish mine." He chuckled to himself.

" I'm going to go find a place to sleep. Thank you for the healing and food, Soraka. And Sona…" Yasuo looked across the table as she raised her bright, happy eyes to his. He struggled for the words to say, remembering her willingness to push herself to the brink of exhaustion to carry him to safety. He thought of her throwing herself between himself and Akali, saving his life at the risk of hers. Not in many years had someone cared for him.

"... Thanks."

He stood to leave, nodding to each of the ladies in turn. As he began to walk to the door, Soraka stopped him with a question.

"Yasuo, where is your room.?"

"I don't have one."

Soraka was baffled.

"Then where do you plan to sleep?"

He opened the door, then turned back, smirking slightly.

"I always manage to find a place."

"You haven't received your room assignments from the League?"

"We get rooms, pay, and adoring fans?" He replied sarcastically. Soraka stood from the table, motioning for him to return.

"I won't let you sleep out in the rain or in some doorway, Yasuo. You may stay on my couch, if you'd like." He paused for a moment, the concept of sleeping in the rain never was appealing.

"I have no money,"

"I have no use for money."

He returned to the cozy kitchen.

"You're very generous," Sona stood from the table as well, writing a message on her slip of paper.

" _I'll be getting to bed too now. Good night Yasuo."_

He read the letter, nodding. Sona hugged Soraka and left, her Etwahl floating along beside her. Soraka left for her bedroom, and Yasuo made his way to the couch in the next room over, opposite of the bedroom. He removed his pauldrons, greaves, and sword, setting them all within arm's reach. Yasuo stretched out on the couch with his rum, taking a healthy swig and contemplating the day's events. His thoughts were interrupted when Soraka returned, carrying, a blanket and a pillow. She seemed amused that he had already settled in.

"Were you going to need a blanket, or will you be doing things Rakkor?" Yasuo stood, accepting the blanket and pillow.

"Thanks." She smiled in return, turning to leave.

"Goodnight, Yasuo." She stopped at the door, looking back at him. "Don't try any funny business. I sleep with a weapon."

He almost laughed.

"Of course. Goodnight, Soraka." Yasuo lay down, closing his eyes. In his mind, he planned to leave before the sun rose. He considered it his duty to avoid bothering the woman who had shown him so much kindness.


	2. Chapter 3

III

Unfavorable Winds

Yasuo opened one eye. A shuffling, bumping noise drew his attention. He was immediately aware of the light streaming through the window over the couch, which coupled with his headache, let him know he had overslept. At the foot of the couch on which he reclined was a closet, it's door now ajar and a woman crouched inside, rummaging through the interior. Yasuo knew immediately that it wasn't Soraka because of her skin tone. For a moment he was quite confused, as it appeared that she was wearing only underwear. He considered that she hadn't noticed him reclined on the couch, and thought it prudent to call attention to himself.

"Lady, I don't know about you, but it's rude where I come from to walk around strangers in your underwear." The woman stood, turning to face Yasuo and blushing intensely. He recognized Janna from the previous evening. She wore a white, revealing chestpiece and a lingerie bottom that matched.

"Yasuo. It's not underwear, it's my outfit."

Yasuo looked around his sleeping area, settling his hand on his bottle when he found it. He uncorked the jug and took a swig, only replying afterwards.

"Fooled me." Her face clearly showed her outrage, but she maintained a steady response.

"What are you even doing here, Yasuo? Don't you have anyone else to bother?"

"I liked you more when you wanted something from me." He rolled from the couch, stretching his back. The pointer finger on his right hand itched, and it took him a moment to remember earning the scar that now adorned it during his fight with Akali. It wasn't a pleasant memory for him, mostly due to how quickly she won the fight, and how poorly he performed. He decided the best way to deal with the issue was a stiff drink.

As Janna continued searching through the closet, Yasuo replaced his grieves, tightening the straps. by the time Janna finished her search and closed the closet, He had followed suit with his pauldrons, walking into the kitchen area. The room had been radically altered, now devoid of the banner welcoming new champions, the table completely cleaned. Soraka stood by the stove, and she smiled pleasantly when she saw him.

"Good morning, Yasuo. I didn't expect you to stay." He nodded stiffly, as his plan to slip out was Interrupted by Janna's entrance to the kitchen.

"Found it." She said, holding a small white tiara in her hand.

"Oh good," Soraka replied. "I knew it was in there somewhere. Well, have a seat, and I'll fix your hair." Janna stood still, her attention focused on Yasuo. It wasn't a subtle symbol that she didn't want him there for her hair styling. Soraka sensed it as well, and before Yasuo could make a move to exit, she responded.

"Yasuo, could you make us all some breakfast while I get Janna ready? We're in a hurry and it would be a big help." She looked at him with her large, amber eyes. It was the closest a lady with a horn growing from her head could come to puppy eyes. He recognized that Soraka had cleverly done two things. She had offered him breakfast, as well as given him a distraction for Janna's comfort. Though he wasn't eager to stay, Yasuo had learned quite a few things in his life as a wanderer, and one of the most important was never turn down a free meal.

"...Sure." Soraka smiled warmly, returning her attention to Janna.

"Have a seat, dear." Janna's eyes still reflected her hesitance, but she pulled a chair out from the kitchen table, sitting down with a sigh. Soraka began combing her hair. Yasuo glanced around the kitchen for a moment trying to decide what to do about breakfast. Settling on eggs, he began gathering the necessary tools for preparing breakfast, Soraka talked idly.

"Janna's going to a fan meet today. You remember I told you how popular she is with the audience." Yasuo said nothing, cracking an egg into a skillet. He had little experience with cooking, but a simple fried egg was one of the few things he had mastered. Soraka continued, seemingly oblivious to Janna and Yasuo's mutual discomfort.

"Why, just last month, she was at an interview with 'Valoran Today' and one of the fans in the audience asked her hand in marriage. Obviously she turned him down, but it was a sweet offer." Yasuo chuckled to himself as he plated the eggs, deciding Soraka didn't really need any encouragement to continue the conversation on her own.

"Janna certainly does draw a crowd everywhere she goes. She makes quite a pretty penny on her appearances, too." Janna cut in, chastising the healer.

"Soraka, stop." Soraka giggled, teasing her hand through Janna's hair.

"I'm just bragging on my friend. I was going to tell him about your charities."

"I'd rather discuss something else." Janna interrupted. Yasuo finished breakfast, setting out the three plates on the table. He dug into his serving as Soraka continued talking.

"Of course. Have you seen Leona lately? She was here last ni-..." Soraka was cut off by a knock on the door.

"Yasuo, could you get that?" Yasuo hesitated, not at all wanting to 'get that'. He did stand and move to the door however, his reasoning being that he was eating her food, so he owed her at least this much. He walked to the door, opening it without a word. In the hall stood a small, thin man adorned in purple robes. He smiled weakly before speaking.

"Are you Mr. Yasuo? I was told I could find you here."

Yasuo had many reasons he never stayed in the same place for long, and the small, reedy man in the hallway had just illustrated one of them painfully well.

"Told by who?" Yasuo replied, his gaze stern. The man seemed quite nervous interacting with Yasuo, repeatedly wiping the sweat from his hands. He coughed briefly before continuing.

"Uh, well, my superiors, sir. I'm just here to deliver a message."

Yasuo said nothing, waiting in silence. The man at the door hesitated a while longer, expecting a response from Yasuo. When he got none, he continued.

"... The uh, the High Councilor Vessaria Kolminye Sends her regards, and wants to let you know that she missed you at the New Champion Orientation after the party, and um, also at the party. She says to give you this…" The young man sorted through a pack that was slung on his side, pulling out a booklet of wrinkled and stained paper.

"Yeah, sorry, I spilled some coffee on that, uh, please don't tell Vessaria." Yasuo accepted the paper, examining it briefly.

"The League and you: a Guide for New Champions"

The front was adorned by the League of Legends crest, and the insignias of each of the city-states represented. He pushed it into his shawl, finding the pouch previously occupied by a rum bottle. He motioned for the man to continue.

"She also told me to give you this." The man handed Yasuo a key, which he accepted, placing it in the same pouch as the paper.

"That's for your new room. I can show you, if you'd like." Yasuo waved him off.

"No, I'm sure I can find it. Are you done?" The young man checked over a list clutched in his palm, muttering to himself nervously.

"I..uh, let's see. Vessaria's regards, missed him at orientation, key, ceremony, ah, ceremony!" He returned his attention to Yasuo.

"Yes, you have to attend your New Champions Announcement, at the steps of the institute, today at noon. Vessaria said to tell you not to skip this one. It's far more important than the party. Uh, please."

Yasuo said nothing. A 'New Champions Announcement' sounded like the worst thing ever to him. For a quiet loner, being announced was never a good thing.

"Anyway I can skip out on the last one?" He asked the messenger. The small man shook his head.

"No sir, she was very clear on this. You must attend." Yauso sighed. Right now, he needed a drink. He turned back to the kitchen, ignoring the man at the door. Soraka and Janna were quietly discussing something, and Yasuo could tell it was upsetting Janna. Behind him, the young man pushed into the kitchen.

"Sir, I need your word that you'll be there! I have strict orders not to return until Vessaria has your promise."

Yasuo found his rum on top of a cabinet, snatching it up and uncorking it.

"Tell Vessaria that I said to shove it up her plump, pretentious-"

"He can come with me." Everyone was startled by Janna's interruption. She had twisted around in her chair to face the messenger , her hair fixed tightly in a bun.

He glanced at her, confusion written on his face.

"I'm sorry, Ms. …?" He asked.

"Janna, the Storm's Fury." She said matter-of-factly.

"I have a fan meet today. He can come with me, and it'll count for his Champion Announcement Ceremony. The League loves its gimmicks, and Having a champion announced at a charity event will only make the League look better." The messenger seemed a bit stunned for a moment, processing her information.

"Ms. Janna, I understand you want to help your friend, and I mean, he obviously doesn't want to go to the Announcement Ceremony, but I can't go back and tell her I okayed this."

Janna stood from her chair. Placing the tiara carefully on her head. She still wore her revealing outfit, and looked a good deal more appealing with her hair done. Her appearance had quite the effect on the messenger, who tried awkwardly not to stare. She walked towards the man, placing a hand on his chest.

"Then don't. Tell her I said it was okay, and ordered you to leave. Which is what's happening, by the way." She smiled, appearing every bit a beauty pageant winner.

He walked towards the door, tripping over himself as he went.

"I um, yeah, I'll tell her, Ms. Janna, and um, if there's anything else I can do for you, I'll, uh, Let me know…" He closed the door behind himself. Yasuo upturned his bottle of rum, emptying it before he spoke.

"We don't have anymore to drink, do we?"

Janna scowled in his direction, which, he admitted to himself was still beautiful.

"You're pathetic." She sat down in her chair with a huff, crossing her arms. Soraka frowned at Yasuo as well.

"She put herself on the line for you there Yasuo, you could at least be thankful."

Yasuo placed the empty rum bottle on the shelf, wiping his mouth. He sighed deeply, frowning.

"You're right. I appreciate that Janna. Thanks." He walked to the door, throwing it open.

"I appreciate all of it. From both of you." He closed the door behind him as walked out, fingering his recorder as he considered where to go next. He thought of Riven, regretting that he never got a description of her. It seemed best to find her, even if he wasn't sure that she was the one he was looking for. It occurred to Yasuo that the Institute might be the best place to look for her, but he had no intention of staying here, having spent too much time in one place already.

His thoughts were interrupted as he was grabbed by the shoulders and spun around, coming face to face with a very angry Soraka.

"Whoa there, pretty girl. Calm down." He flinched when the skin of his forehead contacted her horn. Her face was flushed with anger as she spoke, her words low and measured.

"Yasuo, I can't believe you. Janna took a big risk in their, she used her influence to cover for you, and you literally walked out on her. I won't let you leave. I convinced her to do that, as a favor for you because you clearly didn't want to go the Announcement Ceremony. I will not let your selfish thoughtlessness ruin Janna's good name. By the stars, I'll drag you there in chains if I have to."

Yasuo stood still for a moment, the pressure of Soraka's fingers bruising his shoulders.

He blinked, unsure of how to handle the situation. Usually no one was angry when he moved on.

"Alright. I'll stay, but just for her ...meetup…" Soraka's eyes softened immediately, her grip loosening to a pat on the shoulder.

"I… Thank you Yasuo. I didn't mean to lose my temper. I'm sorry." She hugged him,. He was still unsure of the appropriate reciprocation, so he patted her on the back. Soraka released the the hug, looking into his eyes.

"Could you do me one more favor, please? Could you apologize to Janna for walking out?"

"No."

Janna strolled through the lobby of a hotel, alternatively floating or walking. Yasuo walked behind her, a sour expression on his face. They had arrived the hotel several minutes ago, Janna leading Yasuo through a back entrance. Inside the largely vacant lobby, several tables had been set up, booths and kiosks shooting up everywhere. As they walked the aisles between displays, Yasuo noted the wares being hocked. It was a unique assortment, it appeared to be costumes and merchandise related to the League of Legends. One woman wore a dress much the same as Sona's signature blue piece, with her hair dyed and pulled into pigtails.

Janna reached her target location, a large open area with a cluster of chairs, all oriented towards a stage. She floated down the center of the aisle to the stage calling out,

"Po? Has anyone seen Po?" Scattered around the stage was a series of workers, setting up stage parts, moving chairs and the like. One of them looked up upon seeing her.

"Ah, Janna, good to see you! You're late, you know." He was a rotund man, cleancut and wearing a suit. His hair was short and dark, and had an air of authority and excitement around him. Janna smiled,offering her hand as she dropped casually out of the air.

"It's good to see you, Po. I was delayed." He shook her hand, gesturing towards Yasuo.

"Who's your date Janna?" Yasuo cut in before She could reply, offering his hand to the man. "My name is Yasuo."

Janna explained, smiling brightly the whole time.

"He's not my date. He's actually why I was delayed. You see, I pulled some strings at the institute, and they saw it fit to allow us to introduce one of the new champions." Po's face lit up with a broad smile, his joy unmistakable. "Janna, this… this is huge! Thank you!" He grasped Yasuo's hand with a broad smile, vigorously pumping it up and down.

"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Yasuo. This will be big! Why, this hasn't ever been done outside of the institute!"

Janna looked at the floor absent mindedly.

"No." She sounded melancholy. "I don't suppose it has."

Po pulled a notebook from his pocket, flipping it open to take notes.

"Okay, Mr. Yasuo, what city-state do you represent?" Yasuo recalled hearing that one too many times.

"I don't. I move around a lot."

"That's fine, I like that. Adds some mystery. Do you have a gimmick? I see you're carrying." He pointed to Yasuo's sword. "Are you just a swordsman or are you a ninja or what?"

"I'm no ninja. I'm just a swordsman."

"Oooh, he hates ninjas. Good angle, okay. Just a swordsman. A wandering swordsman, with no affiliations. A sort of rebel without a cause, I like it. And why don't you like ninjas?"

"They're hard to hit."

Po's face could only be described as joy while he wrote. Yasuo could not give a wrong answer as the enthusiastic man rattled off questions. Janna quickly grew bored, floating off halfway through the conversation.

As much as Po enjoyed asking the questions, they were having the opposite effect on Yasuo. He was quickly growing tired of the prattle and invasion of his privacy.

"I need a drink." Yasuo cut him off after a particularly invasive question about his childhood.

"Of course, of course. I'll get one of the vendors to mix you up some lemonade. Have a seat, I'll be right back." Po shuffled off, face split wide with a grin the whole way.

Bored and curious, Yasuo began to wander about the small auditorium, watching the workers. Several were hextech experts setting up hexaphones, while others were organizing chairs. He noted with some amusement that another group was repainting a set of massive banners. He continued his amble about the hall until he came to Janna and another young man, talking over a small wooden box set next to the back of the auditorium. He listened to their conversation for a moment.

"We could use glitter for the lettering. It's loud, draws attention." The young man quipped, sizing up the box.

"No. I don't want to seem like a homemade project. It needs to look official."

Janna replied.

"It is a homemade project."

"I know, but still."

Yasuo noted the text on the front of the box, it's label indicating it was for charity donations.

He stood beside them, offering his hand to the young man.

"Yasuo." The young man seemed nervous, but replied in kind, shaking hands with Yasuo.

"I'm Yen. It's good to have you here, Yasuo, I'm hoping your presence really brings the donations up a notch. We've been slacking lately, truth be told."

Janna's face was blank and emotionless her eyes focused on the box. Yasuo nodded before replying.

"What charity do all of these donations go to?"

Yen was eager to answer.

"It's for the Zaunite Liberation Program sir. I know it sounds militaristic, but I fought the name, so what can you do. We hire Piltovian architects to visit Zaun and build safer, sturdier homes. Some people have no homes to begin with, so I guess the homes we build for them aren't safer, just, um, real."

Yasuo nodded, his eyes roving over the box. It was simple job, written on the front in plain letters was "Zaunite Liberation Program: We can Make the Future Safer."

"I like the design you have now." Yasuo continued. "Simple is usually better."

Yen nodded, still excited. "Then we'll leave it simple. You're the man bringing the crowd!"

Yen scurried away, Janna glaring daggers in his direction the whole way. She floated off hastily, leaving Yasuo with the impression that she was quite upset.

Having nothing better to do, Yasuo wandered back to the stage area, offering his hand to help with the set up. Though not gifted in hextech contraptions, Yasuo was at least able to lend a hand with organizing chairs.

As the time for the fan meetup approached, the workers one by one finished their jobs, disappearing outside of the auditorium to deal with the growing lines. Yasuo sat down as the auditorium emptied, pulling his recorder from his shawl and playing. He idly played songs from his childhood, the music filling the room. With less than fifteen minutes until doors open, Janna appeared on the stage. She appeared to have undergone considerable stress, as her eyes were red and slightly puffy.

By now all of the workers had vacated, and the stage was set. The sole remaining occupants of the room were Yasuo and Janna, the latter of whom had now taken a seat in a chair on the stage. Her elbows resting on her knees, and her face downcast. Yasuo sat on the stage with a huff, looking around the room. It wasn't massive by any means, but could easily hold a hundred occupants. He was not looking forward to the following event.

"How long do these usually take?" He asked Janna.

"Fuck you."

"Oh."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Why?" Yasuo asked.

"I didn't want to bring you here. Soraka convinced me too."

Yasuo said nothing in response to her statement. She continued.

"I'm giving up a lot for you. This is my event. Allowing you to take center stage, not to mention the things I'll be hearing from Vessaria… and you couldn't care less. I did this to make your life easier Yasuo. That League Champion Announcement would have been hell for you. This way, Po tells your story how you want it told." Her voice cracked, as though she was having difficulty maintaining composure. She was silent for a time. Yasuo tried to compose his thoughts.

"I-"

At that moment, Po burst through the doors, carrying a large glass in his hand., smiling far too broadly for Yasuo's mood to allow.

"I got your drink, buddy, and man! We got quite a crowd out there. It'll be standing room only, no doubt! So here's the plan, Janna, you'll introduce Our ne fr-"

"Leave." Po stopped in his tracks, several feet from a seated Yasuo who glared at him angrily.

"I'm sorry, friend, if I offended you, I promise I didn't…" Po's eyes panned up, seeing for the first time a red-eyed Janna on the stage. "... mean to." Yasuo stood, drawing his sword.

"I was talking to my friend before you interrupted. Now leave." Po stammered as he started backing up.

"Mr. Yasuo, we've got two hundred and fifty people out there expecting to meet the new champion in fif-..." He checked his watch. "Ten minutes. I can't-" Yasuo shook his head in anger.

"Anyone who comes through those doors before I say will have to deal with me. Go. Now."

"Okay, I understand, protecting your girlfriend in her time of need, I love it, I can work with that." Po turned to leave, but Yasuo called out one more time.

"Leave the drink." Po set the drink on a chair as he scurried out. After the large man's hasty exit Yasuo retrieved the drink, sitting on the stage in front of Janna. She laughed as her friend scurried out.

"He means well." She said.

"You say that far too often." Yasuo sipped his lemonade, and to his delight it was hard lemonade. Perhaps he had misjudged Po.

"Well this time I mean it." Janna continued. "He runs all of the charity events that are legitimately affiliated with the League. Sure, he makes a salary, but his work has done so much good…"

"His and yours, I assume." Yasuo stood, climbing on to the stage and taking a seat next to Janna.

"I do what I can. Every cent I make from these appearances goes towards others. But sometimes I just feel like I'm not even making a difference. This appearance was one of the smaller ones. Until you showed up…"

"I was wrong. You're a good woman, you're trying to do me a favor. I'm sorry I was thoughtless." He offered her the lemonade.

"No, thanks Yasuo, I'm not thirsty." He smiled.

"I think you are. Trust me." She took the drink, sipping once before taking a much healthier gulp. She smiled at him.

"You're right. I was thirsty." She wiped her eyes, and Yasuo noticed for the first time that she had indeed begun crying. He continued speaking.

"I don't believe for an instant that you're selfish enough to be mad at me for stealing the spotlight." She studied the floor a moment longer before replying.

"It's not y-"

She hiccuped

"Damn it. It's not your fault, Yas-"

She hiccuped again.

"Give me a minute." She breathed in out and out a couple of times, then took a swig of lemonade.

"It's not your fault, Yasuo." She finished the sentence, and then waited for a moment.

"All better?" Yasuo asked.

"Much, thank you." Janna took a breath before continuing.

"I've been frustrated for a while now, and I think I… I think I was giving up hope. Like I said, this has been the smallest fan meetup in quite a while, and I just didn't know if it was worth doing anymore. I used to bring in crowds of thousands. One hundred people just doesn't make the same money as I used to. I'm not able to help nearly as many people as I could in the old days. Days when I was more popular. And then you show up and double the number without even wanting to…"

"It's only because they don't know me. If I did this for a few months, I couldn't draw a crowd of a hundred with free beer."

She smiled.

"Of course not. You smell. When's the last time you showered?"

Yasuo nodded with finality. smirking at the jibe.

"That's better." Janna smiled at him, looking down at the stage beneath her bare feet.

He continued, "You're very kind for telling me." Janna giggled, turning to hug Yasuo. He replied with a pat on the back. It had worked so far. They sat for a moment longer before Janna continued.

"Have I lost my touch? Why have the numbers gone down so much?" By now she was staring off into the distance, her eyes distressed.

Yasuo considered her question for the time it took to drink another mouthful of lemonade.

"It's not you. How many times can you ask the same person the same question before you get tired of hearing the same answer?" They both sat in silence for a while after that. Several minutes passed before Janna stood, gesturing towards the door.

"I suppose we ought to go tell them they can come in now." Yasuo indicated that she should sit down.

"Give'em another minute. I'm still not looking forward to this. How does this work, anyway?"

Janna sat down, reclining in her chair.

"The guests come in and ask us questions, usually. They'll ask personal questions, questions about specific matches, maybe even ask you if you have any cool tricks." Yasuo nodded, and the two sat for a moment longer.

"I think I can handle cool ticks."

Time passed. Outside, the crowd became louder, chanting for entrance.

Yasuo felt he had put it off long enough.

"I'll go let'em in, I guess." Said Yasuo.

Janna nodded.

"I'll wait for the storm. Good luck." Yasuo stood, descended from the stage, and walked down the middle aisle of empty seats. He reached the double doors at the end, pulling one of them open and slipping out.

It was pure chaos. A small band of valiant workers were attempting to hold back a writhing, chanting mass of humanity. Their number holding the crowd were few, but the workers had linked arms in front of the doors and held valiantly. Yasuo was impressed by the display, and at the value given to his word to let no one through. Po appeared by his side immediately, shouting over the din.

"Please tell me you're ready. I can't stop'em much longer, and I can't stand to see blood if you go cutting people up." Yasuo nodded.

"Let'em in." Po gave the signal, and immediately the workers moved inside, making a beeline for the stage. Their job as security had not yet ended. The rush of humanity pushed past Yasuo, and he fought to stay standing.

As one particularly large, sweaty man brushed against him with extreme proximity, it occurred to Yasuo: they didn't know what he looked like. He smirked, whispering aloud to himself.

"No cure for fools."

(Intermission)

Inner Demons

By all men's standards, she was desirable. Her slender frame, innocent face and prefect eyes, though beautiful, were not the primary fuel of the desire for her. For reasons unknown to them, she was simply magnetic. Married men, devout to their wives for decades would fall to her, pursuing her with tenacity and lust. Even the most devout of Ionia's celibate monks would look twice as she walked by, their minds captured, if only for a moment, by carnal emotions. It was due to this animal attraction that the man selling replica League of Legends Paraphernalia on the street found himself following her, his mind clouded with desire.

"Ma'am, I don't mean to be rude, but I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you. Please, I just want to talk for a moment. Don't be hasty, sweet thing."

Ahri cursed herself. She had made eye contact with the man without the proper mental barriers in place. It was a brief mistake, but when she wasn't careful, even the shortest of her glances would mesmerize. He had called to her, hawking his goods in a loud voice and her curiosity had been aroused by offers of "One of a kind Ahri figurines". The following brief contact was enough to thoroughly entrance the man. Her head was bowed as she pushed through the crowd, attempting to ignore him.

"Listen, you don't have to go on a date with me. You're just so pretty, I just need to…" The man was at a loss for words, and Ahri seized the opportunity to duck through a gap in the crowd. For a moment, she thought she was free of him, but rough hands on her shoulders told her otherwise. The man twisted her about violently, staring at her with wide, glassy eyes.

"...I just need to look at you…"

He was so close, so deliciously, delightfully, easy… she could take him right there.

"... please… I just need to… be with you." It wouldn't be wrong. The man clearly wanted her to take him. So what if there were people around? They both wanted it, it was obvious.

She placed her hand on his chest and the vendor sighed, wrapping his fingers around hers.

"I… I think I love you." He was practically forcing himself on her, she had no choice but to accept. Slowly but eagerly, as if it was her first time, she tugged tentatively at the strings that bound his soul to his flesh. It was smooth, perhaps the easiest and most willing one yet. The energy came from him in bulk, his eagerness made it easy, like a great zeppelin bound only by a kite string. His essence loosed rapidly from his body, and he became aware of what was happening. A terrifying, soundless screech contorted his face, the pain overwhelming him. Ahri caught herself.

No. No. NO!

She reacted sharply, pushing his essence back with her mind, tethering his soul once again to his mortal body. The vendor fell to his knees, clutching his chest. Tears fell down his cheeks, his frame shook.

"Guard yourself." Ahri whispered.

She vanished into the crowd.

The steps before her led to a moderate house in one of the wealthiest districts of the town, a small two floor building with a sparse garden in the front. Ahri checked the note she carried to confirm her address, then pushed past the garden gate to knock on the door. The residence before her belonged to Ogilvy Valsar, a high ranking summoner within the League of Legends and a close personal friend of Ahri's. She reflected on their meeting, her invitation had been delivered by hand from an initiate, a student of the summoning master. Ogilvy had told her it was of the utmost importance.

Presently, he opened the door, wearing a casual shirt and slacks, his, long grey hair restrained in a ponytail.

"Ahri, my apprentice. Please, come in." She entered, and he showed her to a small sitting room, offering her tea. She politely rejected the offer and took a seat on the couch. The room small and cozy, devoid of decoration. Ahri mused that an old bachelor was unlikely to spend much time decorating. Ogilvy sat opposite her, a cup of tea clenched in his bony, aged hands. He smiled at her as he sipped.

"It's good to see you, Ogilvy." She began. "What's so important that it couldn't wait?"

He sat forward in his chair placing his cup on a low table between them.

"Ahri, I have been training students in the art of self-discipline since before the League was founded. You'll have to exercise patience for a moment and allow an old man his nostalgia." On the table rested a small bound tome. Ogilvy picked it up and began leafing through it, showing the occasional page to Ahri.

"This is a log of all my students in the art, Ahri. Among which you were a star student, I might add." Each of the pages contained the name and birthdate of Ogilvy's students, a short record of their trials and successes, as well as a final note of where they were today. Many notable names were among them.

"Vessaria Kolimnye. One of my first students. I'm certain you've heard of her." Ahri nodded.

"High councilor of the League of Legends. You have an impressive repertoire, Ogilvy."

"Yes, she had a bit of a drinking problem in her youth, but now I'm showing my age." He smiled as he leafed through the pages.

"Lee Sin. What a terrible disappointment. I ejected him from apprenticeship. The boy lacked discipline entirely." Ahri merely nodded in agreement, saying nothing as her friend reminisced. After a short time, he brought his musing to a point.

"Ahri, I have made my ancestors proud. The Ionian art of total and perfect self discipline had set many on the right path, many important powerful people. It has changed Runeterra for the good."

"You've done a good thing, Ogilvy, though I still don't see why you had to call me here to discuss it."

Ogilvy sat back in his chair, feeling around in his shirt pocket until he brought out a pipe. He spoke as he tamped and lit the tobacco.

"I just returned from a yearly physical. Ahri, I'm dying. I have some sort of aggressive cancer, the Mejais can't pin it down." Ahri was silent for a moment.

"I… I'm so sorry, Challenger Valsar." She whispered the words, using the man's formal title. He smiled at her, puffing happily on his pipe.

"It's just Ogilvy now. I've tendered my resignation. I'm certain the Master class Summoners will be eager to vy for my position." Ahri leaned forward, concern showing in her eyes.

"Is there anything I can do, Ogilvy? Let me help you."

Ogilvy met her eyes, the gleam of a once great man, now beaten and worn meeting her gaze.

"I'm tired, Ahri. I am not upset about my death. I think it's simply my time." Ahri nodded, saying nothing.

"There is, however, one way you can help me. I'm the best in the world at self discipline, I was taught by monks, I have taught monks, rulers, champions. But I'm through Ahri, I'm done fighting. All my life I have never been with a woman once." He leaned forward in his chair, resting his hand on hers.

She retracted her hands immediately. "I don't believe where you're going." Ahri said, her voice a whisper.

"I am, and this is being modest, one of the most powerful wizards in the world. You can feel my font, can't you, Ahri? My power is… seductive to you, isn't it?" Ahri flinched visibly, pressing herself into the couch. He smiled.

"I must look as good to you as you do to me. I want to make a trade. Your use of my soul, my immense energy… in return for my use of your body." She could see it now, as if it were physical. his power was immense, she could gorge herself for days on his essence. She could become more beautiful, more powerful than she had ever been. His sagging, ancient physical body looked like nothing, a shadow in comparison to the energy he was displaying in his attempt to seduce her lust for power.

"I know self discipline better than anyone, Ahri. You have to want to be disciplined. I can see it in your eyes, you want me. and for the first time in your life, you have a victim who is not just willing, but understands what is being offered. You have no moral reason to reject me, Ahri." She stood hastily, knocking the coffee table sideways and spilling Valsar's tea. He moved to grip her arm, his eyes eagerly roving over her body. She slapped his hand free of it's hold and turned. Ahri said nothing, passing out the door and into the street. Once outside, a crisp breeze ruffled her hair, tugging at her clothes. she could feel the flush in her face, the accelerated beat in her heart. She had very nearly fallen to him. He stood at the door, leering up and down her body.

"Come now, Ahri. Don't you trust me?" She felt many things; chief among them was an urge to accept his offer. But rising above that was a disgust and anger she struggled to find words for.

"You pathetic, sorry, perverted old man!" She yelled at him, tears flowing from her eyes.

"I trusted you! why would you try to use me like this? You were my friend, Ogilvy! My only frie-" Her voice caught, and she broke into tears. Ogilvy watched for a moment, his eyes softening as she cried.

"I… Ahri, I… didn't think-" He was interrupted by a knife erupting from his chest, an unseen attacker plunging the blade into his back. He fell forwards down the steps, and Ahri reacted instinctively, launching herself forward with a magical burst to catch him before he landed, setting him gently on the step. Her second jumped pushed her to the top of the stairs with effortless magical ability. The knife's formal owner was already fleeing through the main hallway of the house, a portal opening before him. She lashed out with her magic, orbs of fiery light catching the mysterious black figure, rending his flesh and bringing him down before he could escape. She watched as the man fell to the ground and the portal closed without him. Ahri returned to the old man and knelt, cradling his head. He wasn't able to breath, coughs continually racking his body.

"Ogilvy. I'm going to go get help, ok? Try to breath!" The old man shook his head, smiling.

"This will kill me, Ahri. Just listen. I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't even think about you. I made up my mind to give up my life's dedication, I didn't even think about why I had disciplined myself in the first place." Ahri smiled sadly.

"I forgive you, old friend." He smiled back at her.

"I'm so proud of you, Ahri. You're strong, so much stronger than I ever was. My best student. My best friend…" His smile faded as tears filled his eyes. "My love." His breathing stopped, and he died in Ahri's arms.

 **III Cont.**

He pushed through the crowd to the middle aisle, just in time to hear Janna explaining Yasuo's absence through a hexaphone.

"If everyone could please calm down. Please. He just went to the bathroom. He didn't think the room would fill this quickly. Please calm down. Please remain calm. Please-" Yasuo waved to her, catching her eye. His intent was for her assure the crowd that he was present. She shook her head, gesturing for him to come up to the stage.

Around him, the room was chaos. The small auditorium easily exceeded its safe capacity, and Yasuo thought it doubtful that this was a mere two hundred fifty people. He lowered his head, putting his right shoulder forward and leaning into the crowd. He pushed through the crowd of noisy, sweaty humanity, loathing every second his decision to attend the event. With great force of will, he made it to the front of the crowd, several feet from the stage. Once there, he forced his way through the crowd, tripping into one of the security surrounding the the stage The woman caught him. She pulled Yasuo to his feet, chastising him.

"The stage is off limits, sir, you'll have a chance to meet Janna at the signing table afterwar-..."

She stopped speaking when she recognized him. He spoke before she could apologize.

"I'm with the program. Can I get through?"

She stepped aside, motioning him towards the stage. He nodded, brushing past her as he stepped up onto the the raised platform. The corners of the stage were dark, a large spotlight cast solely on the middle where Janna sat. He made his way across, already searching for the lemonade. He located it on the edge of the stage, and moved to pick it up before sitting. He walked into the spotlight across the stage, stopping to pick up his drink when he reached it. As he took a drink, Janna introduced him.

"Everyone, it's my honor to introduce the newest addition to the League of Legends, Yasuo, the Unforgiven!"

He stopped, lowering the glass. He had been totally unprepared for his introduction. He looked out over the crowd as the room erupted, a cheer so loud the floor shook. Janna leaned over the front of the table, Yelling at Yasuo so he could hear.

"Now is a good time to do a trick, if you have any."

He had one.

Yasuo pulled his sword from its sheath, simultaneously throwing the glass of lemonade into the air. He caught the drink on the tip of his sword, balancing it delicately while spilling only the slightest amount. He moved the drink to and fro for a moment before tossing it in the air with his blade. He caught the drink, simultaneously sheathing his sword. He sat the drink on Janna's table, walking around to join her as the crowd redoubled its cheering. For a moment, Janna tried to speak to Yasuo, but quickly realised her efforts were wasted, unable to be heard amongst the cheers. After almost a full ten seconds of cheering, Janna stood and waved her arms, trying to silence the crowd. Though at first intent on continuing the onslaught of volume, they did eventually simmer down enough to allow an event worker with a hexaphone to begin explaining the way the meet would function.

Yasuo sat, reaching for the lemonade. Janna laughed, covering her hexaphone as she spoke to Yasuo.

"You may not like it, but you have a flare for this. People are going to think that was staged."

"It wasn't?" He replied, smirking. Janna rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the event. The event worker finished explaining the rules and handed the hexaphone to a member of the audience. The man was small and frail, naked above the waist. His skin appeared to be dyed purple, and he wore a beard that was clearly fake. To Yasuo, the man's garb was uniquely bizarre, but he thought little of it. Many of the people at the meet wore costumes imitating those of their favorite Champions, and he assumed this man was doing the same. Yasuo hadn't listened at all as the woman explained the rules, so he sat unmoving, waiting for someone else to start the proceedings. The man spoke into the hexaphone.

"Hi, uh, I'm a huge fan of you, Janna, and it's good to meet you here, Mr. Yasumo." Janna laughed, and Yasuo made no move to correct him. The young man continued.

"I was wondering, could you give us some of your background? I'm sure we all wanna know where you come from."

Yasuo looked around for a moment, knowing he couldn't shout a reply to the man. Janna thrust her hexaphone into his hand. For a moment, Yasuo drew a blank. It took him a moment to remember where he was and the question asked of him. He prepared his normal answer to the question.

"I don't want to talk abo-" Janna elbowed him in the ribs, and he glanced at her. She covered the hexaphone and gripped his arm tightly, whispering to him.

"This is your shot, Yasuo. You can tell your story, or the League can tell your story." She relinquished her hold on him and he paused, considering her words. He moved the hexaphone back to his mouth, ready to push on with his least favorite subject.

"I-.."

Janna gripped his arm again and he stopped. A laugh spread across the crowd, Janna's intercessions amusing the audience.

"Try to be kind. The man just said he was happy to meet you." She relinquished her hold on his arm, and he reached for the hexaphone again.

"Like I was saying, It's nice to meet you too, strange painted man." The crowd burst into rolls of laughter, and Yasuo looked at Janna, shrugging. She smiled and shook her head, motioning for him to continue.

"Your question, though, is not a happy memory. I was born in Ionia, the son of a swordsmith and a schoolteacher. When I was growing up, and I don't want to brag, I grew pretty steady with a sword. When Noxus invaded, I joined the fight, thinking I alone could make a difference. My superiors assigned me to guard one of the council elders who resided in a town near the fighting. To me, it was an insult. I thought I was the best, and I was offended when they didn't put me on the front lines. It's my shame that I abandoned my post, going to the front lines. When I arrived the battle was done, so I returned, only to find the man I swore to protect beheaded on the stairs to his own home. I turned myself in, ready to pay the price for my foolishness, my dishonor. But the people of Ionia accused me of the murder. I knew that if I was executed, the true murderer would go unpunished, so I broke free. To this day, I'm looking for the murderer, hunting them to regain my lost honor." The auditorium was silent as Yasuo finished. He went to set the hexaphone down, but stopped, his hand hovering above the table. He brought the hexaphone to his mouth again.

"If anyone knows or has heard of a Noxian with wind elementalism capabilities, one who was involved in the Ionian invasion, I want to hear about it."

For a little while there was silence in the auditorium. Until a man standing near the front left side of the stage called out:

"You mean Riven?"

Chaos erupted. The crowd was shouting at the top of their lungs now, some laughing, some jumping up and down, some trying to converse with their neighbors. Yasuo leaned to Janna, whispering.

"Why do I keep hearing that name?" Janna frowned deeply before replying.

"Not now, Yasuo. Now isn't the time for this."

The crowd raged for a short time before the event workers got them under control. The woman who read the rules before had the hexaphone again.

"We would like to ask that both the fans and the champions avoid questions in the future that reflect negatively on any Champions of the League or the League itself, please. Next guest."

Yasuo leaned down to the hexaphone.

"So I should just not talk at all then?" A chuckle spread through the crowd as the next guest stepped up to the hexaphone. For a time, Yasuo slipped into a routine. Someone would ask him a question, and he would deflect away from his past, giving generic or boring answers. After one particularly interesting question about his choice in hairstyle, Yasuo noticed a woman standing on the back wall of the auditorium. She wore a revealing white costume and tiara, a near perfect match for Janna's outfit. She would have been any other utterly unremarkable overzealous fan had Yasuo not recognized her face. He covered the hexaphone, speaking to Janna in hushed tones.

"Is that Sona? Dressed as you?"

Janna laughed, following his gaze.

"Yes. She always comes to support me, I don't think she's ever missed one. She always dresses up like the crowd to not be recognized. I've never seen her dressed as me, though." Janna stared for a moment before frowning. She leaned back to Yasuo.

"Do you think she wears it better than I do? I've always thought she had a better body." Yasuo shook his head, dodging the question

"You look good. Should we invite her to join us or something?"

Janna shook her head, her face becoming downcast.

"I did that once. She couldn't speak or answer questions, so she just sat in silence the whole time. It was a frustrating experience for her." Yasuo nodded, returning to the next curious audience member. From the back, Sona noticed their attentions. She waved, grinning widely when he nodded back. The audience didn't notice the interaction, so Yasuo returned his attention to the subject at hand. An obese, wheezing Yordle fronted the next question.

"Are you and Janna dating?"

"No."

The Yordle looked crestfallen as he relinquished his spot in line to the next guest. Yasuo sighed deeply as sat back in his chair.

Janna, giggled, leaning over to whisper to him.

"You'd think they'd stop asking after the third time we said no."

Yasuo leaned against the door, silent. He was behind the stage now, waiting next to the hotel's rear exit. Having time to kill, he pulled his recorder from its confines within his shawl. He closed his eyes and began to play. For a time, he was alone again, and that was his favorite place to be.

"Yasuo."

Yasuo looked up, his focus broken by Janna's presence.

"I cut the autograph session short. They were all asking if you would be there. I was wasting my time anyway…" She smiled at him. "It's not your fault. Thanks for waiting." Yasuo said nothing, pulling the exit open and stepping out in the alley. They had entered this way, so he knew the path back to the institute. As they walked down the abandoned alley, Janna continued speaking. "We made a good deal of money for charity today, Yasuo. You really brought in the crowd." Yasuo said nothing as Janna continued on, discussing donations and the future of her fan meetups. She seemed somber and disappointed still, her tone slightly melancholy. A slight wind chilled him, and he pulled his shawl tight around his shoulders. As he continued walking, he squinted against flurries of snow slowly beginning to pour into the alley.

His eyes snapped open, and the wind warned him of an attack. He whipped his sword from it's sheath, steel ringing against steel as he blocked an incoming blow. Akali appeared in front of him, Her eyes piercing.

"How did you know?" She whispered, shrinking back into the shadows. She disappeared from view, and brought his sword up again, ready to block the next attack. Yasuo raised a single eyebrow, contemplating her question.

"You didn't do any research before you tried to kill me? That's so unlike you."

She came in swiftly from his left for another attack, and Yasuo caught her first Kama with his sword. He pushed Janna back, whispering to her.

"Stay back. No matter what."

Remembering Akali's previous high-low attack method, he pushed off her blade backwards, dodging a second, lower strike.

Not this time.

He immediately counter-attacked, swiping his sword in a vertical arc downwards, catching Akali's low hand. Metal struck metal, thrusting the Kama from her hands.

"One." Yasuo's voice was steady.

Akali pivoted forward onto her now empty and hand and swung her legs around, knocking Yasuo's feet out from under him. He hit the ground and rolled, returning to a standing position as Akali retrieved her Kama. Shadows slid into the alleyway, filling the area with darkness. Akali shrunk back, attempting to fade into the darkness. Yasuo knew he would be at a disadvantage if she could disappear again, so he acted, rushing forward toward her. He dove forward, throwing a horizontal haymaker strike at the retreating ninja, catching her shoulder. Blood poured from the wound as Yasuo caught himself and jumped back. For a short time, Akali was visible, a fact that clearly made her uncomfortable. Her eyes met his, grim determination mirrored in her shrouded face. Yasuo simply smiled at her. After his second strike, the blade by his side now emanated wind, a cool breeze pouring from the cold steel and rustling his clothes.

"Two. Nowhere to hide, little ninja." Yasuo flourished his sword, sweeping a blast of wind from the blade.

"Aseryo!"

A torrent of air rushed through the narrow alley, catching Akali and slinging her into the air. She fought to regain control, the wind immobilizing her.

"Sorye ge ton!" He shot forward, catching her in midair with his blade. His sword connected with flesh as he sliced horizontally across her torso. The slash was hasty and deep, splashing blood into the vortex of air around them. Yasuo swept his sword around, pivoting the weapon hilt up, blade down. He brought the sword above his head, aiming the point at her heart.

For the first time in his life, the wind followed someone else's command.

A gale force gust slammed him into the alley wall, knocking his sword free from his hand. Yasuo struggled to regain his bearing, searching hurriedly for his weapon. The gust slowed to a breeze, and across the alley, he heard Janna's screams.

"You lunatic!You were going to kill her!" He sighted Janna several feet away, crouched over the limp form of Akali. Janna was on her knees, her hands pressed into Akali's stomach. Tears flowed freely from Janna's eyes. Yasuo found his sword and stood, sheathing the weapon. Blood pooled around Akali, her eyes skyward. Her cowl had fallen from her face. The ninja's mouth opened and closed repeatedly, as if struggling to find air. Her limbs were completely motionless. It occurred to Yasuo that she was going into shock. The wound on her stomach was deep, perhaps even mortal. Janna was simply panicking. She had torn part of akali's gi loose and was pressing it against the wound in her torso, a jagged, deep cut across the abdomen.. Her arms were red to the elbows, and her face was an unhealthy white.

"Go get Soraka! Hurry!" She was crying, her order coming out as a shrill shriek. Yasuo shook his head.

"She's not going to survive that. Look how much blood she's lost already." Janna's shoulders shook as she struggled to keep pressure on the wound.

"Please… just do… something." She was still crying, tears flowed freely down her face. Yasuo stepped forward, intending to offer his hand to Akali's wound.

"Janna, calm down, it's not going to-..." He was cut short as a noise startled him. With the sound like rushing air, a sphere appeared around Akali, dark purple and shining like a beacon.

Yasuo stretched, popped his neck, and drew his sword.

"Janna, back up." Janna's hands slipped from Akali's wound as she backed away, the bleeding on the ninja's stomach slowing and then altogether stopping. A man appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, his head bowed and finger to his mouth. He was easily six feet tall and wore a dark blue outfit, covering all of his body save his eyes. He stood stock still for a moment, then mechanically began to attend to Akali's wounds.

Yasuo focused on the man intently, refusing to drop his guard the newcomer tended Akali's injury.

"This is Shen." Yasuo explained to a very shaken Janna. "He focused his teleportation ki, blocking the blood flow from Akali when he traveled to her."

"I know." she replied.

"How?"

"I've seen him do it before."

Yasuo was confused for a moment.

"Oh. Is he a champion, too?".

Janna nodded as they both watched Shen work. He carefully cleaned the wound with a vial of water from his belt, following up with a bandage to stem the fresh bleeding. Halfway through his work, he began talking.

"We've got a new priority, Akali. The Unforgiven will have to be taken care of later. One of the Summoners has been assassinated, a high ranking wizard. Ahri was a witness, I'm going now to question her. There was an attempt on another that was foiled. They were both telepaths. Someone's trying to weaken the League's mental defences. The League brings great balance Akali, we must protect the remaining telepaths in the city. A new judgement is passed from the Eye of Twilight - find Sona Buvelle and keep her alive."


	3. Chapter 4-5

Vayne's knees hit the concrete hard. She caught herself before falling completely over, an attempt to maintain some of the poise and presence she was so well known for. Her attempts at poise were largely stifled by the burlap bag covering her head. She tugged at the bindings holding her wrists. Working them loose wasn't going to be easy, but it would be possible. Around her, she heard the shuffling of boots and the murmurs of her captors. Above her she could the hear the howling of wind as it whipped through the building. The outside air was turning wintery.

"Where'd you find her?" The voice interrupted her thoughts. She could not see the speaker, but determined by the sound that he must be an older man, a Zaunite by his accent.

"She was out by the river docks.", Came the reply from a younger man. "Stalking around with her damn crossbow. She nearly killed us. Lucky we got the drop on her."

The first voice spoke again.

"Bring me the crossbow. Did you recognize her? Did you get her name?"

"No. Mostly cursing and threats. Then we brought her here."

A sigh, more footsteps. Several whispered words. She strained to hear, but the bag was making it difficult. She contemplated the conversation that led her to this position.

" _I need your help, Nighthunter." Shyvana stood before her, eyes level and breath steady. Shauna Vayne was perched in an open window, crossbow unslung and leveled at the dusty, decrepit, empty church building._

" _This isn't a coven, explain." Vayne's voice was hurried and breathless. The half dragon was alone in the room as Vayne entered. They stood in an abandoned church, a church which Vayne had previously believed to be a witches' meeting place._

" _I planted that story with one of your sources. I needed to meet with you." Shyvana continued. She leaned forward, one foot resting on a pew. "Unless you have a better way to contact you, I believe we can move on." Vayne shouldered her crossbow, and sat perched, leaning against the window sill._

" _Talk, She-dragon. I am not a patient person."_

 _Shyvana nodded, continuing._

" _Allan Brave is dealer. He moves supplies through Runeterra. Supplies that have recently been finding their way into Demacia. His majesty wants the supply chain cut."_

 _Vayne sighed deeply, losing her patience._

" _I don't care for police work, half-breed. Waste my time again and I won't be happy."_

 _The Night Hunter turned to leave, but Shyvana spoke quickly, stopping Vayne in her tracks._

" _Allan moves black magics. Shades. Spirit summoning equipment. Ingredients for witches. This is mutually beneficial." Vayne frowned deeply, studying Shyvana through her glasses._

" _And why do you need my help?" She asked._

" _We need solid evidence before we make an arrest."_

" _Do you have a plan?"_

The bag came off her head, bits of hair yanked by the hand that removed it. In the dim light of the warehouse, Shauna Vayne blinked, adjusting her eyes to the dim light. A small group of men milled about, some looking bored and some chatting amongst themselves.

The man sitting before her was in his mid to late forties, a tall man with greying hair and broad shoulders. In his right hand he held the bag that had previously covered her head. He squinted at her through the haze.

"I know you from somewhere." His was the same older male voice that had spoken before.

He studied her a moment longer before continuing. "What's your name? Why are you here?"

A voice from the group of younger men called out.

"Hey Allen, ain't that the chick from the games? Yeah. she's that bot-laner who played for Demacia last year, what's her name, Ashe?" Allen seemed confused for a moment, shaking his head slowly.

"Naw," He replied. "Ashe is that busty broad from the north. This is, ah shit… " He struggled to find her name.

" _Get captured, Intentionally." Vayne's manner was cross. "That's a moronic idea."_

 _Shyvana shrugged as she replied._

" _It's dangerous, yes. But holding a captive would give us plentiful reason to make a move on his operation." In the far distance, a wolf howled, distracting Vayne. She shook her head to refocus and replied, the tilt in her voice implying that Shyvana's problem was a trivial one._

" _Here's what I think. I think I'll go in by myself, break up his operation, kill him, and leave. Simple, quick, efficient." Vayne turned, still in the window, attempting to make her exit._

 _For the second time, Shyvana interrupted Vayne._

" _You would regret that. Without Demacia's manpower backing you up, many of Allan's men would escape, continuing the operation on their own. Worse, if you killed the bastard we'd lose access to information on who's buying all of his contraband and why." Shyvana crossed her arms, impatience creeping into her voice._

" _I didn't come to you because you're a fool. You already know everything I said."_

 _Vayne clenched the muscles in her jaw, considering the offer._

" _Why me? Why not one of your soldiers?"_

 _Shyvana smiled._

" _Jarvan wouldn't approve of endangering our own so recklessly."_

" _I'm not sure I buy that."_

"Vayne." She spat the word. "My name is Vayne. Who are you, and why am I captive?" He was sitting in front of her in a metal chair. The man smiled, waving his hand at the group assembled behind him.

"Get the lady some water. I think there's been a misunderstanding."

 _Vayne considered Shyvana's offer silently before replying._

" _And if I refuse?" the Half-dragon smirked, knowing that she had secured Vayne's assistance already._

" _The back-up plan is asking Ezreal."_

 _Vayne muttered under her voice, just barely loud enough for Shyvana to hear._

" _Incompetent blowhard."_

He leaned forward until their eyes were level.

"You can call me Allan. And look, Miss Vayne, you have to understand, if I hear someone is prowling around the docks, I send the boys to rough'em up a little. Sorry about that, I don't like making trouble." Vayne stretched her neck and rolled her shoulders, loosening her muscles.

"Then you're going to hate this."

Outside in the winter cold, Shyvana crouched in an alley, eyes on the dock warehouses. Behind her, a squad of Demacia's finest troops huddled. They fought the cold, all eyes and ears waiting for the Half-dragon's command. As Shyvana sat staring unflinchingly at the warehouse, one of the soldiers crept up next to her, whispering quickly.

"What's the signal to go in, ma'am? It's cold out here." The soldier was not the first first to complain, but Shyvana fought back the desire to berate their pathetic moaning. Jarvan insisted that soldiers needed to complain sometimes.

"The communicator." She spat. "One of the Magician's bobbles. She'll activate that once she's been captured."

"Oh."

For a moment, there was silence.

"... That's been going off for like… like fifteen minutes now. We thought you knew." Shyvana's pulse jumped as anger filled her.

"Morons! Move, she could already be dead!" She leapt forward, feet digging into the dirt street as she sprinted from the alley into the moonlight. Rapidly closing the distance to the warehouse, Shyvana abandoned all pretense of subtlety in the mission. She called up her rage, fire filling her as she flung herself at the wall of the warehouse.

To Prince Jarvan Lightshield the Fourth, Crown Prince and Exemplar of Demacia.

It is my deepest regret to write to inform you of the partial failure of our mission. While we did secure the dark magics dealer known as Allan Brave and all but two of his cartel, we failed to secure the arrest of Shauna Vayne as requested. Due to the incompetence of the soldiers assigned, Shyvana was unable to act immediately on Vayne's capture. Therefore, we were only able to act after Vayne had set in motion her plan to escape our grasp. As Shyvana "entered" the warehouse through the north wall and began "securing" the suspects, Vayne bolted. In more ways than one. The ruffians hired by Allan proved to be utterly incompetent, as they failed to remove her wrist mounted bow, a mistake that was fatal for the two cartel members I mentioned. Her whereabouts are currently unknown. As for your Half-breed's performance, my review is as follows.

The violence with which she enacted her breech of the warehouse was dangerous, reckless, and unnecessary. The shards of red-hot steel from the wall remain lodged in many of the items that would otherwise be used as evidence in court. On the matter of the suspects I referred to as "secured",

third degree burns covering 60% two of the men's bodies hardly counts as an efficient arrest. And while Allan's demand that we pay for the damage caused when "That bloody big dragon bitch tore a hole in my wall" will be ignored, he does have a point that repairs will have to be made to the property before auction. We were however, able to determine the content of some of Allan's recent shipment, a set of Institute issued teleporters sold to a party of assassins. The whereabouts of this paraphernalia is regrettably unknown.

On a lighter note, I'm told that the looks on the faces of the suspects during and immediately after the half-breed's breach were quite impressive. One of the surviving ruffians even commented that Vayne smiled at the sight of their plight, though I believe he greatly exaggerated.

I recommend a leave of absence for the half-breed, and a dock in pay for the soldiers involved.

-Commander Maeger G.

To S.

Good job. Less fire next time.

-J

Chapter Four, Renegade Steel, Soft and Warm

"Don't look at me like that."

Shen had teleported out the same way he had come, a purple sphere and the sound of rushing wind. The alley in which they now stood was beginning to fill with snow, the flakes gathering on trashcans and windowsills. Akali appeared stable, her eyes closed and her wound no longer bleeding. She lay unconscious on a pile of trash, her blood mingling with and melting the fresh fallen snow. Next to her, Janna stood stock still, puffy red eyes locked on Yasuo. Her arms were covered in blood up to her elbows and her hair had come undone, dropping out of the eloquent braiding set in place by Soraka. The young champion looked quite disheveled.

"You were going to kill her." Janna spoke, ignoring Yasuo's directive. Anger filled her voice as tears flowed freely.

Yasuo shrugged, sheathing his sword for the second time in as many minutes.

"I was. Akali would do the same to me. Honestly, that begs the question why Shen left her here with us."

Janna quivered with rage.

"Because he knew I would never let you kill her. He knows I would stop you." Her voice was cracking, but she maintained her iron gaze, trying to convey a confidence she obviously didn't have.

Yasuo walked to Akali's form, bending over her.

"Oh, I'm sure you would, little lady." He picked up Akali's motionless body, cradling her in his arms. Her breathing was shallow but consistent.

"She won't make it long without healing. Let's go find Soraka."

As he turned to walk away, Janna simply stared after him, quaking.

"You're going to help her _now_? After trying to kill her?"

Yasuo continued walking, his back to Janna.

"I have a weak spot for crying women."

Janna followed behind him at distance. She had said nothing since leaving the alley. Around them, the streets of the city were filling with snow as the sun set. He had chosen a more direct route to the Institute, leading through a much busier part of town. He ignored the glances of passersby, many of whom recognized the pair.

"We shouldn't go this way." Janna spoke behind him.

Yasuo continued walking, his eyes forward.

"I thought this was the quickest way to the Institute. She needs help soon."

"I mean that the hospital is closer."

Yasuo stopped for a moment. When in need of healing, he had immediately assumed they needed to find Soraka.

"Alright. Lead on." As Janna passed him, Yasuo noticed she was wearing the same scant, revealing outfit from the fan meet up. As she led Yasuo down a crowded street with her arms folded tightly to her body, he noticed she was shivering violently. The swordsman rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to point out her poor choice in clothing. He called out to her.

"Take my shawl. You need it more." Yasuo slipped the garment off with one hand, struggling to hold Akali at the same time. Janna took it without hesitating. She wrapped it tightly around her shoulders.

"Thank you, Yasuo. I know it seems stupid to wear so little on a night like this."

The cold bit him more harshly now without his garment, but he was accustomed to extreme temperatures. They continued on for a while before he replied.

"You could say that. Why don't you wear something warmer?"

Janna stuttered her response, obviously not comfortable with her own answer.

"Well, I uh, the, my fans. They like this sort of outfit."

An awkward silence blanketed them as they pressed on through the snow. Janna seemed uncomfortable.

"I know what you're thinking. I'm being childish, like Soraka always says."

"Not exactly, no." He replied. Janna rolled her eyes. "She always tells me that I expose too much of myself. Well it's my life. I'll wear what I want."

Yasuo sensed he had touched a nerve, as Janna seemed to be reliving an argument.

"Do you wear this because you like it, or because other people like it?"

"My fans. They… they like it." Janna stopped in the street, the snow falling gently around her.

"You're right. All of you are right. I just can't bring a crowd as easily as Yasuo, the great and beloved swordsman." The sarcasm dripped off her words as she said them, the bitterness in her voice blatant. Yasuo stopped next to her and said nothing, his eyes meeting hers. The snowfall had begun to collect on her head, small flakes dotting her blonde hair.

"Some of us need to use something else to draw the crowds." Her voice was almost a whisper now, her eyes on the ground.

"Do you want to know what I think?" Yasuo asked.

"Not really, no."

Yasuo turned to walk away wordlessly, his feet crunching in the snow.

"Wait." Janna called after him. "Yes, I do. What do you think, Yasuo?"

"I think you're beautiful wearing whatever you want. If what you want is your underwear and a tiara, for whatever reason, wear that."

Yasuo continued down the street, Janna standing still behind him, watching him walk away.

After a moment, she followed him. The hospital wasn't far.

As Janna spoke with a nurse, Yasuo considered his options. He had promised Soraka he would attend the fan meetup, and now with his promise fulfilled, he considered leaving. They had arrived at the hospital without any interference. Leaving the same way would be easy. The Swordsman wondered if he could sneak out completely unnoticed. He eyed the door, edging towards it.

"Yasuo. She went to Le Rouge. She could be in trouble. Will you come with me, to make sure she's safe?" His back to Janna, he sighed.

"If I didn't know better," He replied. "I would say the three of you are inventing reasons to keep me around." He turned to face Janna, the young woman's face filled with concern. The hospital was mostly empty, the waiting room they now occupied almost devoid of patients. The duty staff had accepted Akali without any questions, which puzzled Yasuo. When he had asked Janna, she had told him they simply dealt with League champions enough to understand.

"You heard Shen. Someone is after Sona. It could be dangerous if I went alone. Please, I need you." Janna leaned in close to Yasuo, close enough that he could smell her perfume. Her eyes wide and sad, as she placed a hand on his chest, their eyes meeting. He couldn't help but frown.

"Stop. You're making us both look stupid." Janna leaned back, placing her hands on her hips And frowning slightly.

"Are you going to help us or not?"

"I will. But not because of your doe eyes and underwear." Janna rolled her eyes at him, the low lighting in the hospital room accentuating bags under her eyes.

"Fine. Let's go." She walked to the door, still clasping his shawl tightly around her shoulders.

Yasuo followed her out into the snow, a thick white blanket now covering everything. The air was still and silent, the snow laying everything in the city to rest. He walked beside her, now shivering himself. Neither of them was truly dressed for the weather.

"How do you know she's at this place?" Yasuo asked. Janna was not walking, opting to float above the snow as they traveled.

"Le Rouge. It's Sona's favorite restaurant. She always goes there after visiting the hospital." Janna shifted the shawl about her shoulders, covering her elbows.

"She visits the children's ward. It's so sweet, you should go with her one day." She continued, answering Yasuo's unasked question. They continued walking in silence for a time, the majority of the streets abandoned. The wind picked up, billowing about them and tossing snowflakes into the air. Janna shivered violently. The sun had set by now, and the temperature continued to drop. Yasuo grew concerned about Janna, who still only wore her outfit from the fan meet up.

"We need to find this place soon." Yasuo spoke. "If it's not nearby, I think we should call it a night." Janna cut him off abruptly.

"It's near enough!" Her voice softened as she continued. "If she's in danger, I'm not giving up." Janna pulled Yasuo's shawl tightly around her shoulders and leaned into the wind, her eyes grim and determined. She picked up her pace, pushing through the freezing snow. Yasuo followed several feet behind her. With every door the pair passed, Yasuo considered grabbing the persistent woman and pulling her out of the freezing wind for her own safety, despite her determination. His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden stop from Janna.

"This is it. This is the place." The building she stood in front of was a single story, with large windows along the front. Lettering on the window read "Le Rouge".

"Then let's get inside." He replied. Yasuo found a door and pushed it open. The inside was well lit; the sound of laughter floating out as a blast of warm air hit them. Janna brushed past him into the building, her eyes roaming the interior. As Yasuo shut the door behind them, a hostess approached them, a smile turning into a look of awe as she recognized the duo.

"Good evening... Oh…my."

Janna ignored the woman, scanning the restaurant. The hostess continued speaking, her voice cracking slightly.

"I… um, Ms. Janna, I'm such a big fan. We're so glad to have you here."

Janna seemed caught off guard at the mention of her name, her eyes snapping to the woman.

"Yes, of course." She replied. "Always nice to meet a fan." For the most part Janna ignored the hostess, who now mostly seemed confused. Yasuo watched as Janna walked forward into the restaurant, drawing the attention of many patrons.

"Sorry about her." He apologized. "She's got a lot on her mind right now."

The hostess merely nodded as Yasuo followed Janna into the restaurant. The size of the building's interior was extensive, with several different rooms throughout.

Janna floated from room to room, her eyes scanning the seats. The young Champion drew a lot of attention and the occasional cat call. Yasuo followed her through the restaurant, passing his steely gaze over everyone who called a little too loudly. As they passed through a doorway in the back of the restaurant, Janna drifted to the ground and ran forward.

"Sona! You're okay!" Sona sat alone at a table in the corner of the restaurant, scanning a menu. She smiled on hearing Janna and stood, meeting her in a hug. Yasuo stood behind them silently, watching the display of emotion. As they broke the hug, Yasuo noticed that Sona was wearing weather-appropriate clothing, with a red shawl and bonnet matching her dress.

Janna continued talking, her eyes red as though she were about to cry.

"Sona, there's been attacks… I thought... Shen said that you were in danger." Sona brought her friend back into the embrace, patting her back. For a time, they were silent. When they broke the hug again, Sona turned to Yasuo, embracing him as well. The swordsman did not reciprocate the hug, instead awkwardly patting her on the back.

"Good to see you're alright, Sona."

When she broke the hug, Sona gestured to a pair of vacant chairs, obviously intending for Yasuo and Janna to join her. Janna did so quickly, sitting down at the empty table. Yasuo hesitated.

"I think I'll uh, head to the bathroom. Do you know where it is?"

Sona nodded, pointing him back out of the room and down a hallway.

"Thanks. I'll be right back." He turned and walked slowly down the hallway, which led to a set of bathroom doors and an exit. He headed directly for the exit, intending to leave. If he hesitated now or went back, it would mean a long drawn out goodbye. Yasuo felt sure the pair of women he was walking out on would try to invent reasons to make him stay, and he had other things to do.

"Oh this? It's Yasuo's."

Behind him Janna had started a conversation.

"He lent it to me when it started to snow. He's really a nice guy if you can get him to open up. He's an impressive fighter too."

A part of his mind told him to stay. A part of his mind always told him that.

"Sona, stop! You're embarrassing me! No, it's not anything like that."

But that part of his mind was weak. That part of his mind would never earn him justice. His promise was fulfilled. He needed to continue his hunt.

Yasuo walked past the bathroom and out the backdoor into the snow. For the time, everything outside was still and quiet. The snowfall had ceased, and an eerie quietness rested on the town. Behind him he could feel the warm air of the restaurant, hear the occasional laughter of the patrons. The urge was still there, the urge to take the easy, comfortable route. But he had always beaten it before. The Lone Swordsman's journey was not yet over, the true betrayer of Ionia had not been found.

Yasuo rubbed his face to clear his mind and set off down the back alleyway, intending to leave the city in the dark. His thoughts were set on Riven, a mysterious Champion in the League of Legends. He now regretted never watching the broadcasts, and wondered where the best place to find her would be.

Yasuo's thought were interrupted when he collided with a small, darkly clad man as he rounded a corner. Something in the stranger's cloak clinked, a metallic noise. Obviously shocked and upset, the man apologized profusely, almost nervously. Yasuo said nothing, locking the man's eyes with his own cold, grey gaze. After several intensely awkward seconds, the intruder brushed past Yasuo and walked towards the back entrance of the restaurant. As the man continued through the alley, Yasuo ran through a mental checklist.

Poorly concealed weapon. Trying much too hard to seem like an everyday person. Using the back entrance.

All signs that pointed to the man being assassin, and a ill trained one. His target would could be Sona. He sighed, remembering what Shen had said.

 _"They're targeting psychics within the institute."_

To go back now, though… would he have the willpower to walk away again? No, Sona and Janna were Champions of the League. They could handle some low-level simpleton assassin. Yasuo knew better than to test his willpower by going back into the warm, friendly restaurant. Bearing his excuse in mind, he turned to walk away, and out of the League of Legends forever.

At that moment, The wind picked up behind Yasuo, wafting the scent of burnt hair and spent magic towards him.

It was a sure sign the assassin had teleported in merely seconds before. Yasuo eyed the man's footprints, which led further down the alley into… nothing. They started abruptly in the middle of the snow and continued towards Yasuo from there. No green, upstart assassin could do that. They might need his help. Though Champions, neither of the women were warriors.

Still, he hesitated. It wasn't his job to babysit these two women, beautiful and inviting as they were…

The wind picked up again, redoubling the strength of the scent.

"Well then." Yasuo said it out loud, stopping the man's hand on the doorknob.

The assassin turned to face him.

"I'm sorry?"

Yasuo drew his sword, continuing.

"Something is telling me to help these girls out."

The assassin's face shifted into a grim scowl immediately. He knew which girls Yasuo was talking about.

"Hell, it could be the wind has started trying to boss me around." Yasuo continued, gripping his sheath with one hand and holding his sword out with the other.

"Whatever it is, it's bad luck for you."

The man drew no blade, and offered no sign of a fight.

"Walk away from this, swordsman. You don't know what you're dealing with."

"I know I'm dealing with an assassin who's never actually assassinated anyone. I know you target innocent women in bars. I know that right now, you're bluffing, because you just might know who I am, and you're scared."

The stranger laughed, crouching into a ready position, his hands forward.

"You _are_ an arrogant one. Last chance, walk away." He replied.

Yasuo braced for a fight, knees bent and eyes forward. He prepared mentally for his foe to jump behind him. He knew enough assassins to know what to expect.

Silence filled the air was the two men eyed each other. For a few tense seconds, neither one moved. The assassin attacked first, taking a single step forward and vanishing. As soon as he did, Yasuo spun around, blocking into the air behind him. His block was perfectly timed, the assassin appeared behind him a split second later, a wrist mounted blade clashing with Yasuo's. Their eyes met, and the man chuckled. Yasuo felt a searing pain down his back, as a cut opened from hip to shoulder. He pushed his attacker back and spun quickly to find a second assailant had attacked from behind. Yasuo threw a horizontal slash at the second attacker, a woman wielding a weapon similar to the man's wrist mounted blade. She dipped backwards and down, out of Yasuo's reach, dodging his blade by inches. Behind him, his original attacker renewed his assault while Yasuo was distracted. His blade met Yasuo's flesh, lodging deeply into his ribcage under his left shoulder blade. Now in searing pain, Yasuo fell to one knee, dropping his guard. Though the wind was by his side, warning him of another attack from the front, the wound in his back slowed his attempt at a block. Before he could stop it, the woman's boot met Yasuo's face with a crack, mutilating his nose. The Lone Swordsman fell on the ground face up, blade still clutched in his hand. The man and woman stood over him, the latter smiling. Yasuo attempted to counterattack while lying on his back, but the effort was easily blocked by the male assassin.

"I warned you. But no, you were sooo confident. I hate swordsmen. Bleeding pricks."

Yasuo tried to reply, but found himself coughing on his own blood.

"Finish him off. I'm going after the girl."

The male turned and began walking towards the back door.

Behind the two assassins, Yasuo saw the light begin to fade from the alley. A darkness crept over the littered trash cans, covering everything. The shadow strangled the light in the alley unnaturally. Yasuo attempted to speak again. He knew the source of the shadow.

"The m-." He was interrupted by a cough, blood sputtering over his chest. "The male first, he's going after her." For the second time, the man stopped at the door.

"What do you mean, 'the male first'?" The whistle of a blade could be heard from somewhere in the shadow, and an arc of light terminated in the man's throat, tearing a clean hole in his neck. Fear plastered his face, but he was unable to scream as he fell to the ground dead. The female assassin acted quickly, roughly stabbing Yasuo in the stomach. Having dealt with him, she then turned to face the body of her fallen comrade.

"Show yourself." She barked the order into the shadow that now encircled them both. Yasuo clutched at his stomach, blood pouring from the wound freely.

"Damn." He said out loud. "This looks," He coughed, "Rough." The female assassin now wheeled about, randomly striking at the shadow.

"I know you're here! Fight me with honor."

Yasuo laughed at her comment.

"Ninjas don't really do that." The woman turned to glare at him with hatred in her eyes, but it was too late for her. Akali stepped from the darkness behind the assassin and simply broke her neck.

"Yasuo. You are injured." The sentence came out of her mouth before her foe's lifeless body hit the ground.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Even the effort of the one sentence taxed him. He felt as if his body was already dead.

Akali pulled the mask covering her face down to her chin to address him. The significance of the simple gesture was not lost on Yasuo.

"You were injured attempting to complete the mission handed to me by Eye of Twilight. I will not slay you."

"Looks like you may not have to." The wound in his stomach was bleeding profusely, and speaking was taking an incredible amount of effort from the swordsman. He continued regardless.

"Sona and Janna are inside. Keep them safe."

Akali nodded and pulled her mask into place, turning towards the door of the restaurant. After she entered the building, all Yasuo could do was lay in the snow and bleed. Darkness soon took him.

 _Eight years earlier_

The clothes Yasuo wore were never meant for the current climate. Short in the arm and wide in the neck, they allowed him to burn easily in the Shuriman sun. He dared not palm his blade, as even the brown leather of the hilt seared to the touch. He had travelled to the Yordle's secret city in desperation, having found no hint of another wind swordsman after a year of fruitless searching. Bandle City was a frustrating disappointment, and so he wondered northwest from there. Now he traveled through the desert, his desperation leading him to search even in the dead sands. He was approaching two solid days without water. The lone swordsman would die soon, and he knew it. His head had stopped hurting a long time ago, and now his footsteps were automation, separate from the function of his mind. Yes, he would die here. He stopped and turned, gazing onto the miles of footsteps behind him. He had suffered enough. This was his end. It wasn't suicide, but a humble death, a way to make his guilt racked existence end honorably. He would die in the desert, searching for justice. The thought almost brought a smile to his face.

And then he saw it.

In the distance, a small hovel, barely more than a shack. A sign that read "Free water to all travelers."

As long as he could go on in his search, honor compelled him to live, even if he yearned for an honorable death. He continued walking, once again adapting the grim expression of a man for whom every day was pain. Yasuo reached the shack and pulled open the door, his heart heavy. The inside was dark, lit only by cracks in the wooden slats of the structure. A small, frail elderly woman stood behind a bar. She cried out upon seeing him.

"Oh dear, you've got it bad. Sit down boy, I'll fetch you some water." Yasuo complied, slumping into a chair, his head on the table. The woman exited through the back, leaving Yasuo in the room with several other men, all of whom were grouped around another table. They were obviously a trading caravan, and much more suited for travel in the desert than Yasuo. As he waited, he hoped she would forget, or stumble and drop his water, or poison it. After coming so close, death had filled his mind, and even now the pain of slaughtering his brother clawed at him. He wanted to die, but his honor would not allow it while the true murderer was unaccounted for.

"Here you go dear. You won't make it far in this desert with those clothes, so I got you some of my husband's old traveling clothes." The woman set a tall cup of water in front of Yasuo, along with a set of dark, heavy desert clothes. He tried to thank her, but found himself unable to form any sound but croaking. After several gulps of water, he replied.

"Thank you ma'am. You're very kind."

"You're very welcome. And don't worry about paying, we only charge for the alcohol."

The elderly lady left Yasuo at his table. For nearly an hour he sat, slowly sipping at the glass of water until almost all of the liquid was gone. In his mind, he planned to travel north and out of the desert..

As Yasuo pondered his next journey, the door behind him burst open. A young man walked in, wearing red and white armor plating across his chest. Yasuo recognized it as the simple, well crafted clothes of an Ionian swordsman. The man was tall, but young and strong. His chest was broad and well-muscled, and the look in his eyes was pure confidence. At his side he wore an Ionian single-edged long sword, very similar to the one Yasuo carried.

"My name is Riao." The man announced it to the tiny group in the bar as if he was speaking to an audience. "And I come for justice and honor." The other travelers in the bar were obviously unimpressed by the young swordsman's speech. None of them moved or even looked up at the young man. The Ionian was here for Yasuo, and he knew it. Not realizing the presence of the one he hunted, the young man focused on the caravan of travelers who had ignored him.

"I need to see all of your faces. Please. I'm searching for someone." Riao began circling the table of travelers, looking at each of their faces in turn. Though annoyed, they obliged him with a look in the eyes and the occasional crude hand gesture. Yasuo took the time to put on the clothes offered to him, a red poncho and wide brimmed hat. Though not his usual style, the clothes were well suited for travel in the desert. He made his way to the door, intending to simply slip out.

"Wait, you there! I didn't see your face. Please, it's important, I'm looking for a man who betrayed my people." Yasuo paused with his hand on the door. He knew he was too late. For several tense seconds, Yasuo made eye contact with the man. He was young and eager, no doubt fresh out of some swordsmanship school and hoping to grab glory by bringing down the betrayer of the Ionian people. Though obviously strong, Yasuo had no doubt the young swordsman would fall, like many before him. The young man spoke, drawing his sword.

"You. Face me with honor, you coward. You murderer."

The travelers in the bar were now interested, obviously hoping to see a fight.

Yasuo sized the young man up and drew his blade. There was little to no hope of this young upstart bringing Yasuo the death he had moments ago dreamt of. But there was one hope, one chance that he might find an honorable death at the young man's hand.

"If you've come to kill me." Yasuo took the last drink of his water and spat it on his sword. "I hope you brought friends."

Chapter Five, A Lone Swordsman

 _Present Day_

Yasuo was at peace. Death was coming for him at last. He relaxed his muscles. The Swordsman almost smiled. Finally, it was all over, the pain and suffering and guilt. He could die in peace now.

"You can't die yet." The voice that echoed through his mind was female.

"That's not an order, merely a declaration. We both know you have more to do."

Yasuo attempted to reply, but found he was unable to speak.

"It's frustrating, isn't it? Being mute."

Yasuo could see nothing, but his mind filled with thoughts. The voice was right, he couldn't let that happen. If he died, the girls, his friends would be in danger. For the first time, Yasuo had a purpose other than his own selfish honor. He attempted to move, to force strength into his limbs.

"Ah, The climb! After that first movement, I knew this would prove to be excellent."

Again Yasuo attempted to reply, but still could not speak. His frustration grew.

"Oh, this is proving to be an enthralling symphony. Absolutely no light motifs, very bold."

Yasuo perceived the voice speaking to him was Sona, and he remembered the way she read his emotions with music. Clearly, she could read his thoughts too.

"Voice projection is a simple extension of that. Someone had to hold on to you until Soraka arrived."

Yasuo thought of Janna. Was she alright? Had his failure compromised her safety?

"Oh yes! I prefer a romance to a tragedy. My, the crescendo is approaching. I hope there's a harmony."

A harmony?

"You're a heavy sleeper. I'll have to wake you up myself. Come now, my protagonist. This opera will be mediocre without you."

Yasuo could see light, and hear voices in the distance. As the real world sharpened in his mind, Sona's 'voice' became less clear.

"I am sorry about this. I know I promised I wouldn't invade your mind again, but it's such a beautiful, sad song. I'm hoping for a happy ending. …just wanted to hear it for a little while…"

He opened his eyes to find Soraka crouched over him. The healer's large, amber eyes brimming with tears. The Swordsman looked around hurriedly to find they were still in the alley where he had seen Akali defeat the assassins. The bodies were absent, but the snow was still imprinted and stained red where their bodies had lain.

"You're alright! I thought we'd lost you for sure." Yasuo sat up, reaching for his wounds. They were gone.

"Janna and Sona, are they safe?" He asked.

"I'm here, Yasuo. Sona was still inside." He turned to see Janna sitting on a trashcan. "I was following you out."

"How long was I unconscious?" Yasuo attempted to stand, slipped, and hit one knee hard. Soraka caught him and hoisted him into a standing position.

"Not long. Two minutes maybe." The healer informed him. Yasuo pushed Soraka away, wobbling warily on his legs.

"I'm going after her." Everyone was silent for a moment as Yasuo attempted to draw his sword,. The Ionian was obviously still weak, fumbling with the long slender blade. After several seconds of struggling he coaxed the blade from its sheath. Both Janna and Soraka watched wordlessly as he made his way slowly, awkwardly to the backdoor of the restaurant. The women in the alley watched his struggle silently.

"This is the part where you tell me that I can't go because I'm too weak."

Soraka shrugged.

"No, I healed you pretty much completely. Honestly I think you're being kind of dramatic." Yasuo chuckled before he replied.

"How'd you know where we were, anyway?" Soraka crossed her arms.

"I ran into Shyvana at the institute. She told me some things about a recent raid pulled of by our friends in Demacia. The guy they busted was supplying a team of assassins with teleporters set to take them here. They were Du Couteau men. Shyvana thought Sona might be in trouble. I guess that's the drawback of being in the same place at the same time every week." Yasuo nodded.

"Why Sona? Why the psychics in the Institute?" He twirled his sword experimentally as Soraka continued.

"Shyvana had no idea. I suspect prejudice and fear mongering. A lot of the wealthy patrons of the League have been fighting against having psychics in the League for a long time. Psychics like the Summoners and Sona. It wouldn't be unbelievable if one of them had paid off these Noxian thugs to get rid of them." Yasuo nodded, walking towards the restaurant as Soraka continued.

"There were more than two teleporters,Yasuo."

"I can handle myself."

"Clearly."

Janna slid from the top of the trashcan into the air, floating next to Yasuo.

"I'll come with you." Yasuo shook his head as he continued towards the door.

"I appreciate it, pretty lady, and don't be upset. I just don't think you're the warrior type, are you?"

"I'm not in the League because I'm a good fighter. You go in first, I'll protect you."

Yasuo cocked his head to one side, pushing the door open with one hand as he stepped through.

"You'll protect me from behind?" Janna grabbed the door from behind Yasuo, pulling it completely open.

"Trust me." They entered the dark hallway.

The restaurant was completely steeped in shadow, and the hall was eerily silent. The patrons had clearly left in a hurry, scattering dishes and food on the floor in their haste to exit. The only noise was a muffled conversation at the end of the hall, in the room Sona had occupied.

"If we both go in, we can take her at the same time. Look, she's weakened."

"That's what the last guys said. We just need to corner her, wait for the rest of the team to get here." Yasuo could see the backs of two men. They faced opposite of Yasuo, gesturing towards something unseen, Both warriors were bearing arm mounted blades. Yasuo motioned to Janna to keep quiet, then crouched and moved silently towards the end of the hall. The men were standing before Akali, who was bleeding from several cuts across her torso. She crouched, kamas at the ready, over the unmoving body of Sona. Her gi was torn badly, and the bodies of two would-be assassins lie face down in front of her. Yasuo crept into the room silently, sword drawn and level with the ground. He caught Akali's attention immediately, but she made no move or sound that would betray his presence.

Wordlessly, he pointed to Sona, then Akali, then the exit in turn. Akali nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly. He hoped she understood his meaning. He held up three fingers for a count down.

Three.

Two.

One.

Yasuo heaved back and kicked the nearest assassin hard. The Ionian followed with a haymaker horizontal cut at the second one, hoping to distract them both. Akali had understood his signals, grabbing Sona and sprinting for the door. Yasuo's distraction was enough, his kick sending the first assassin face first into the ground. Yasuo quickly arced his blade and finished the one on the ground, then wheeled about on the second. They stared at each other for several tense seconds as Akali exited through the backdoor. Yasuo held his blade horizontally in front of his face.

"Leave and I won't kill you." He kicked the dead assassin on the ground for emphasis.

"Now." The second assassin hesitated. To Yasuo's left, from another room in the restaurant, another voice spoke.

"We know where she went. Either you step down and we kill one person tonight, or you fight, and we kill two." The speaker was an older man with salt and pepper hair, wearing a similar blade to the other assailants. He was flanked on all side by five other warriors. Yasuo backed up until he was in the hallway, utilizing the close walls as a pinch point. He knew he would be no match for all of them at once, and hoped to force them to approach in smaller numbers. He could sense Janna was still behind him.

"Who are you guys? Why the hell do you care?"

"Two it is, then." The man nodded his head, and the assassins converged on Yasuo. Due to the Lone Swordsman's positioning, only two were able to approach at a time. With a crash of metal, Yasuo blocked the first assassin's blade and returned the blow, narrowly missing his attacker. A second one leapt in, blade extended at Yasuo's exposed left side. The wind warned him of the attack. Fighting two people, he simply wasn't fast enough Yasuo gritted his teeth, preparing for the pain he knew the unimpeded blade would bring when it met his flesh. But the pain never came.

Sparks exploded in the air between them with a crack, as the assassin's weapon bit into a semi-transparent grey orb surrounding Yasuo. The Lone Swordsman didn't question it, instead jabbing the man cleanly through the throat.

"One."

He finished the attacker on his right quickly before studying his new-found shield. He felt comfortable with it, as if the wind itself had provided safety for him. Briefly, he glanced at Janna. She stood behind him in the hallway, a single arm outstretched and a smile on her face.

"The gale is behind you."

He nodded at her in response, and then turned to face the rest of his assailants. Immediately, he was set upon by two more. This time, he was confident. He stepped forward, a blatant over extension, presenting his back to one of the assassins. The man took the bait and attacked, only to hit Janna's shield. Yasuo grabbed his foe's wrist and pivoted, using the first attacker as a shield to block the second. The assassin's blade punctured his ally, and his eyes met Yasuo's.

"Surprise." Yasuo slipped his sword into the man's ribcage, easily taking his life.

A third wave of two attackers fell on Yasuo, one of them attempting to tackle him at close range. His shield flickered and disappeared, but Yasuo acted quickly. He let the wind guide him, following the same path as the air. He slid around the first man fluidly with his blade in front of him, completely evading the attempted take down. his evasive move brought him face to face with the next assassin. It was a positional mistake that should have meant Yasuo's death, but the man seemed slowed as if moving through water; incapable of approaching with enough speed to attack. Yasuo didn't question or hesitate, simply burying his sword into the man.

"Two."

He quickly finished the first attacker, who had crashed into a table after missing Yasuo. The only assassin left was the older man. Wind whipped from Yasuo's blade following his second thrust, a fierce cool breeze that shuffled papers and knocked over glasses around the room. Bodies decorated the floor around Yasuo, and the shield provided by Janna flickered back into being around him.

"Looks like a lot more than two dead, by my count." Yasuo spoke in a calm even voice. The entire fight had lasted less than eight seconds.

With Janna behind him Yasuo felt not only safer, but stronger, faster. His blade strikes, already among the deadliest in the world, were more precise than ever, and his confidence soared.

The fight had taken Yasuo acorss the restaurant, and Janna with him. The older man grinned. He crouched in the doorway Akali had run through carrying Sona and drew his blade, eyeing the Lone Swordsman.

"Very well." Quipped the older man. "Come at me." Yasuo leaned forward, crouching into an attack position. He began to slowly approach the last assassin. The older man stood stock still for several seconds as Yasuo approached. When Yasuo drew near to him, the older assassin reacted like lightning, grabbing a nearby chair and flinging it at Yasuo, then turning to run back towards the exit of the restaurant. The chair glanced off of Janna's shield, clattering to the floor in pieces.

"Damn coward."

Yasuo grumbled to himself as he held his blade behind him. With a flick of his wrist, he tilted the blade forward, releasing the torrent of wind held within the blade towards the man.

"Three."

The cyclone of air whipped through the establishment, tearing food from vacant tables and curtains off the wall. A rush of high pitched sound followed the tornado through the room until it splashed harmlessly against the wall, several feet short of his foe. Yasuo groaned aloud in frustration. The assassin was almost to the back alley where Akali and Sona had exited, and Yasuo had missed with his tornado. Red clouded Yasuo's vision as the older assassin threw the door open. Soon he would be upon the women outside.

Silence filled the room briefly.

Before the man could slip out into the snow, the wind whipped past Yasuo, an explosion of sound tugging at his clothes. It wasn't his tornado, but it felt the same. A column of spiraling air, a powerful torrent of wind.

It was a gale.

He watched as it engulfed the fleeing man, violently ripping him off his feet and into the air. Yasuo smiled, gripped his sword, and jumped into the wind.

"Sorye ge ton!"

A stream ran down the steps of the Institute, a steady flow from the melting snow. The clouds had cleared and sunshine streamed through. Not a harsh, cold breeze. No, Yasuo felt this one coming from the southern desert, a warmer, more pleasant wind. People around the base of the massive staircase would stop and stare before moving on, and more than one tour group had passed by, the guides thrilled that their patrons had caught a glimpse of League Champions, especially the newest one. Yasuo stood in his signature blue shawl, his sword at his side. He was alone on the ground, the other champions were still on the stairs. Soraka, Sona, and Janna had all accompanied Yasuo out of the Institute, where he had spent the previous night. He had showered for the first time in months, and his shawl had been hand washed by Soraka. The healer had also insisted on packing a lunch for Yasuo, which to his amusement was a sandwich piled with enough stuffing to last a week.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Janna wore her traditional outfit, with her hair in a simple bun. She was smiling, and Yasuo felt like it was her first genuine smile since he'd met her.

"I've got a new skin coming out next month, something to do with weather prediction. I would love to have you at the presentation."

Soraka cut in before he could reply, correcting Janna like a mother.

"He's made up his mind, Janna. He made it up before he ever met us." The lilac skinned healer stepped forward, embracing Yasuo in a hug.

"Be safe out there, okay? Come back and visit." Yasuo patted her on the back.

"You know I won't. And maybe." Soraka broke the hug and left, walking up the steps with a smile on her face..

Sona stepped up to Yasuo and handed him a slip of paper. Before he could open it or read it, she hugged him, and then turned to follow Soraka up the steps of the Institute. Yasuo uncreased the paper, folding it out into its full form. It bore three simple musical pieces for his recorder. The first, a short dirge-like piece labeled "When he died" the second a hopeful, upbeat tune, "When he learned to live" and the third a heroic, fast paced adventure song called "His Continuing Journey". Yasuo smiled, tucking the paper into the folds of his shawl.

He looked up to find Janna still standing at the bottom of the steps.

"You're dead set on this?" She asked. Though she tried to hide it, Yasuo could tell she was on the verge of tears. She still wore a smile, but it threatened to break. "You won't stay even a little while?" Yasuo shook his head.

"I'm sorry, pretty girl. I still haven't found what I'm looking for." Janna stepped forward, wrapping both arms around Yasuo's middle.

"Thank you. For your kindness. I hope you'll come back." He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly against his chest.

"I will. On my honor."

After a long while, Yasuo broke the hug. The front of his shawl was wet with Janna's tears.

"I have a reason now. I have a reason to keep going." He turned to leave. Janna smiled at him, wiping away her tears as he wandered on. He pulled his recorder out, attempting the first few notes of "His Continuing Journey."


End file.
